Mystical Poetry

The natural enjoyment of the beauty here at hand
inspires me in ways I'll never fully understand.
Still, I'd like to try to tell you of the lasting joy I find
while contemplating nature with a catachretic mind.
Sometimes it's hard to find the perfect adjective or noun,
and I'm reminded daily that the lovely laurel crown
we call Imagination rests upon the heads of those
of certain attitude and bent, as every artist knows.
But then a sunset beckons me and, with a simple glance,
I'm instantly transported where, almost as if by chance,
despite the self-constraining thoughts I normally believe,
I find a kind of freedom that allows me to receive
the inspiration of my Muse—it shudders through my spine
in edifying images of nature's dear design.
So I would like to shout out loud, despite my ignorance,
about a joy I hold to be, in my exuberance,
among the greatest pleasure that a human being can feel:
the wonderful enjoyment, sheer excitement, pure apeal
of gazing at the evening sky, while pastel colors spread
their subtle hues in haunting scenes directly overhead.
The Evening Star, against this wide and overarching sheet
of canvas stretched across the sky, where Gods and humans meet,
sets off the crescent Moon that crowns that solitary star.
These two are Heaven's great delights for those of us who are
inclined to look and glad, in fact, to be enlightened through
this vibrant, scintillating scene of transcendental hue.
At times like this, when all I know spreads out before my eyes
in pallid pinks and purples in the iridescent skies,
I come to see that all that is is more than what I see;
and I am so inspired by the scene surmounting me
that each and every glance I take (now I know how to look)
toward the "dead and lifeless stars", in any earthly nook,
across the timeless vault of space, or deep within the soul
reveals a sign of something more than merely just a droll
and meaningless expanse of mass and matter.  Like the stars;
and all the pretty planets, too, what precious jewels they are:
all set in space against a black and threatening expanse,
a groundless ground that frames the figure, as the planets dance
around the captivating Sun, most radiant of all.
The sunlight spreads across the void; diverging spirals fall
and flash upon the mounds of Mars, and over Saturn's rings;
it's such a sight, there in the night, it makes the Heaven sing.
You hear the voice, you feel the tones that echo through the air;
you feel as though you drift away, and you are carried where
Eternity and Time combine, like melodies entwined;
a symphony of ecstasy—all right inside your mind!
A mystical epiphany excited by the Sun,
the beauty of the evening sky belies Oblivion.

A harried thought did hurry me beyond the farthest fars;
for not a soul to worry me is found among the stars.
I bask amid the dark and cold, or swing around a sun
that's burned here since before the younger stars had yet begun.
I drift through all the points of Space, and instants too of Time;
meandering with gliding grace, celestially sublime.
I dance between the seven stars we call the Pleiadese;
then swirl the sifted sands of Mars around Orion's knees.
I drape the Horsehead Nebula, a black and mystic veil,
upon the pallid Pegasus, then off to Saturn sail.
I navigate the universe as if it were my own,
and divagate to stars diverse; or stop to drop a stone
into the Sea of Dreams, behind the Moon's reflective face;
and smile to see the Sun unwind its spirals into Space.
I race around the Hyades, then dive into the dark
that lies between the Galaxies, devoid of any spark.
Beyond the reach of matter, I perambulate, and pause
to smell the Rosette growing by the Little Dog.  His paws
are resting on the Unicorn, whose mythological,
but magically enchanted, horn casts spells upon the Bull.
And near the horns of Taurus, too, I hold Orion's bow,
insuring that his aim is true to hit the mark.  I know
the Bull's Allseeing Eye, the red Al Debaran, will leer
and do its best to scare the dreaded Hunter stalking near.
I cut across the Cosmic Sea and leave the hunt behind
to search for sweet serenity and placid peace of mind.
So off to pale Vulpecula, the wily little Fox,
or down to Small Nubecula's Autumnal Equinox
I saunter and ascend.  With light-like speed I'm apt to shroud
a Constellation, or to blight a Magellanic Cloud.
And when at last I do descend, and quickly quit my flight,
I fall to Earth at journey's end, and sleep away the night.

Imagine, if you will, a fertile valley, where blue waters run
in verdent banks with clouds and birds, as flowers blossom in the sun.
Just there, along the River Taz, where, redolent red roses grow,
an aged shamaness resides, of whom not many people know.
Her skin is etched with lines as deep as eighty years could make them be;
her laugh is colored with the peace of actual serenity.
Her voice is strong, her hands are lithe; her eyes tend to reflect her heart;
and she likes nothing quite as much as practicing her mystic art.
So, seek her out in her repose, and greet her with sincere surprize,
and she'll reveal a vatic vision to your unenlightened eyes.
She'll sit you down upon the ground and have you watch her magic glass;
and she will make your mind quiesce with just one subtle magic pass.
The River Taz will wax flourescent, and the roses start to glow;
and you'll begin to wonder about all the things you think you know.
And all the things you think you think will become clouded and unclear;
and you won't be able to think about all the things you think you hear.
The crystal gazer's glass will shine and float into the azure air
and, with the light of many Suns, will gleam in your ecstatic stare.
Then from that light will come an image of some one you think you know,
who'll call to you come along; and though you won't know why, you'll go.
And as you rise from your repose and move into that magic light,
strange sounds will dance into your ears, and images into your sight.
You'll move into the weirdest world that any world could ever seem;
where every feeling is a song and every thought becomes a dream;
a world where what you thought was true, and what you thought could never change,
has somehow lost validity; a world where everything is strange.
This is the World of Otherwise: where Reason, and what Reason knows
no longer signifies the Truth; that truth that Reason can't disclose.
There is a type of truth that moves in logical developments;
from one thought to the next it steps in perfect, rigid excellence.
But in the World of Otherwise this type of truth turns out to be
of very little usefulness; as you'll eventually see.
You'll find it hard, at first, to cope with what you find in Otherwise;
because of what you think you see, you'll think you can't believe your eyes.
You'll see seductive sights and scenes, but they will quickly disappear;
and everything you think you see will turn into the things you hear.
And what you hear will suddenly be visible, as if the sight
and sound of every thing that is were interwoven sound and light.
And then you'll start to realize that even you are made of light;
a light so faint that you begin to disappear from your own sight.
And as you start to fade away you'll get the feeling that you've grown
larger than you've ever been; larger than you've ever known.
And as you finally fade away, you'll get the feeling that you are
the light that fills the Universe, in every quark and every star.
You'll realize that all that is has always been a part of you:
the atoms fused inside the Sun, the dulcet drops of morning dew
that fall into the River Taz, where all the birds delight to drink,
where all the roses love to grow, where all the shamans come to think.
Who knows how long you'll acquiesce in this transcendent ecstasy:
a breathless, lifeless, timeless time you'll want to call Eternity.
But this eternity will end; and You will slowly reappear;
and gradually you'll recognize the things you think you see and hear.
You'll leave the Land of Otherwise, you'll see it slowly fade away;
you'll feel secure in coming back, however much you want to stay.
And then that One you thought you knew, who called you into Otherwise,
will call you back into this world; and right before your dazzled eyes
the crystal gazer will appear and, coming quickly into view,
will smile her reassuring smile, almost as if to say to you
that she is glad you came to her and happy, too, that she could be
the vehicle through which you saw everything that you did see.