*
*
Pearls iridescent from the Sun
Diamonds extracted from the Moon
Gold-dusted silks from
exotic worlds.
Valued in danger, chances of doom in transit
from there to here.
Fine old wood,
mellowed wisdom
tasting of Earth,
eloquently regales with tales
sage and pure.
*
Young Percival took knight’s oath seriously. To protect and to serve King and country.
The old King afflicted, declining, perhaps dying. Soul sickness they said.
Crops fail to thrive. Floods, droughts, oppressive climate. The peasants too sicken, die, live while they do hungry with poverty, disarray.
In a vision, Percival beholds the Holy Grail – dazzling jewels upon a golden chalice, generating elixir of immortality.
Filled with such reflection, he hastens in the direction of adventure. He leaves the dying kingdom to its decline, in search of a promised land’s magical curative power. Thinking not of King or country, roused by urgent ecstatic pounding he knows to be his own heart.
*
Where do you ride, fair Percival?
Off to find the healer’s Grail?
Learn your song and tell your tale.
Become a son of Sky and Earth
and rain
to return with the wizardry you gain
some wondrous day.
Break the curse.
Expel the kingdom’s pain.
*
He seeks the skills of seers, demons, subtle sorceries and charms. Growing ever stronger, healthy exercise, happy purpose enrich his will. Over terrible trials and deceptions, treacherous opposition, ever nearer his divine prize appears.
These trials are key. They test mettle while bestowing lessons, confidence,
resource acquisition, glimmerings of wisdom. The prize glitters, shines, glows
brilliantly in auric distance, delineates focus, a clear point, fixed star to contemplate through twisting, turning, misty mythic roads.
Sometimes the brick is yellow. Some paths are more intuitive, furtive steps in dark, brambly forest, hostile terrain.
Percival knows what a hero does. A hero perseveres. A hero scales the tower to free the enslaved damsel; goes where others dare not tread because fear is his worthy companion.
Trudging, fighting, sometimes dazed, momentarily forgetting his quest, he perseveres. He need but give pause, look beyond to see his Grail shining, calling him forward.
Of course, he reaches the Grail, discovers the codes, incantations, ensorcels dragons, defies giants, generally blazes through to capture his destiny.
Returning triumphant, he brings joy to the kingdom, drop-kicks the curse, cures the old King of soul malady, is gifted the throne to wisely guide his subjects into delightful prosperity.
So the story goes.
*
*
*
*
*
pure essence to ignite.
Saddened, enraged, radiant,
tempered to exquisite artistry.
The man who would flow with the forces
of nature,
in touch with combust eternity,
child of the Sun.
*
*
*
Walk to the Sun
*
*
When I was a child, it was an old shaman
in our village who told the story.
“We used to walk to the Sun.
We would bring back gifts for the grain.
Everyone was happy.
Today, no one walks to the Sun. No one tends the grain.
No one is happy.”
*
Lately, I understand that
it was not the actual Sun in the sky
of which he spoke. It was that shining
place in our heart that lets us know how to do what is right.
*
I’m taking a walk to the Sun; want to come along?