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Conclusion of 'Poems of the Pagan Revolution'

Conclusion of 'Poems of the Pagan Revolution'

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Published by David Seals

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Published by: David Seals on May 07, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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The rocks moved or shifted as if the changewas made by his eyes and perception bythe Earth's rolling revolving movement;and down he went deep into it: Darknessbelow vegetation and soil so lifelessand shafts so bottomless as not to bethat, stones and rock walls in the tunnel,they were not by light no longer able,perceivable to the steps of ordinary men,seen ably other than by some other Sight.He trusted to his feet the solid floor,and his head to the sharp ceiling so darkit scraped the hawk feathers in his hairtied with a sinew of soft otter fur.Uneven boulder fields made him stumbleand often fall to his knees, and gruntin pain as he twisted an ankle or wrist;crawling sometimes in the black voidover cold marble wet and dampeningin the close air, steady air at temperature56 degrees coming in the shaft fromhe knew not where nor how or why.It was not long before he sat to restand questioned his whole hare-brained scheme,and longed to go back to the blessed sky,lovely day, on the surface of the world.He was glad he brought a bladder of waterfashioned from a gourd, and drank anxiously."I can't see a damn thing. It's ridiculous.You might as well not even be here, Fool."He marveled he couldn't even see his noseor his hands in front of his face. Why? Why not?He got up and stumbled along some more,telling himself it was bravery to keep goingon into what would always be dark,dangerous, with pits, scorpions, no food,alone forever like a tomb in a Mine."That's it," he thought idly aloud (or not,unsure, unoriented, if he was thinking)"maybe this was once a silver or gold mineand not some old unused lava-tubeleft over from the Mountain's exploded past,when magma flowed in molten rock."He wished he could see to know it some more.He was tired and thought about a sleephe was only half-remembering after a while,and, maybe, a light that was only hismind, an idea or two a light imagined;living like crystals rocks ideas too."Icy crystals," he muttered desperately,fingering wet dirt and icicles hardwith every passing hour, "crystal ice.Water dripping from the walls up and down,
freezing and thawing,, I can tell, lickingclear and clean on my tongue. Whew."Realistic glimpses of the Mythicconclusion, the end of the tunnel, birth,a canal lit like an allegory reachedimpressively out of Time and Spaceinto his head and down to the bottom;whole Epochs flashing before him.Mercury and Hercules sat down therein their storklike and leonine formsas easy as you please, lit, metaphors,by temperate climes embedded in strataas slender as Thoth's downward-curving bill,shining, figures of speech, slivers of limestonelayered in glowing comparisons of transference, designated companions."Hello Boss," his brother-sons joked aloud,"what are you doing way down here?"The Chief smiled well enough at them to seethe metaphysics that more illustrious madethe Underworld better by improvement."Growing," he replied. "Photosynthesis.Light's coming down through the dirtthrough the sweet roots of Persephone's bulbs.I don't need animal eyes anymore to see.What's up with you two? Looking for trouble?"Seriously they nodded as equalsto portions and buds of organs that mammalsand birds afforded respect to the worms."And we found it, or rather him, or It.Grown as well or perhaps as unwelldepending on the size or immoderacyof the tunnels running underneath the worldHe's Argus, the python of Goddess so hugeGiants are diminished to mere dinosaurs.Interminably stretching all overvolcanic chambers thousands of miles longdo not describe the cavities of his home.Where is he? Rather, where isn't he, Lord?This very slough where you've been for ages,thousands of years down here relativeto tribes and herds above, evolving, waxingto the centuries and millenia of the Sun,You, however, have been ceremoniallymissing. Where have you been all this time?"Sweet Root stared at them impassive as grass."In crystal, locked in crystals, of water.Don't you see the lodgings of ice all aroundprotecting rivers and the flow of energy?Inseparable I've maintained menwith animals and plants unidentifiably.Now of course I've been expecting you twoto return to me with news of old foes.
The substance of the world's not unmemorablyfeeble or neglectful of weeds and seedsunchecked, immoderate, which abuse this.Always I've known some day some nightI'd have to face at last myself at the last,and finish Creation. Now's The End againto begin anew another phase of the chore.Great Mercury, my valiant Michael, angels,with Hercules my son by the sad HeraI know my wife neglected all over againon the surface above, White Cow Iostalked in the harmony repetitious by Setnecessary in the seasons beget by this Cave,hunt for the Crown of the worldwide Snake.There I'll do battle with it with you twobeside me, inside me, valiant Tripodof warriors of poets, the sphinx, and I!Come Brothers, let's to our Father compete."Deeper along in darker passagewaysbrighter by life than the furnaces of starsth'heroic champions sought terminalIntelligence dangerous, so far and so nearthey could smell his breath in carbon sulfidein heat Danger so high and so lowIt had almost no face and no name anymore.Zeos wished for the briefest of momentsto be back in Io's prehistoric green meadowsbefore men from Europe in machines with gunshad once again with barbaric notionsmassacred her white herds of succulent buffalo.They'd protected the wolves of heavenfor ages upon ages with his Arrows andthe Pipe from his sacrificed leg bone,which he'd brought back from his Black Lodgeback into the sunshine of hallowed Bear Butte.But now once again men had ruined it;in the twinkling of an eye in cosmic time.Their stink threatened in the cave up aheadexposure to his dreaded Opponent andFriend - his Father nobler than all men.(What could now be the face of True Death?)Mercury, Hercules, and His Son Zeosbanded together in one trinity of war.Around the last, fieryest bend of Hellthey came at last face to face with It!Argus indescribable under Flagstaff stretched heads threefold a hundredfoldas far as Arizona from South Dakotaand under the third portion of New Mexicoin caves of crystal so mountainousthey inverted the tipis triangularglittering with diamonds and emeralds.God's temple of fire and serpentine

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