a poem dedicated to ~burning woman~
Now everything that is known, or could be known, has a beginning, and nothing can be that does not begin. There is no thought of ending here, just beginning.
And first, of what can be known of any beginning, there was the Void. The Void was akin to nothingness, only it was not. It was other than what we can “reverse engineer” through the past and back beyond our own beginning: we cannot go where no one has gone before. We cannot return to the Void: one cannot return where one has never been. We cannot go into the Void for it lies behind us, beyond a veil we cannot penetrate.
We can but look into the future for that which yet may be, but in looking into the past, however we stretch our minds to comprehend, the past remains veiled that lives beyond our own memories, or the memories of those inclined to impart parts of theirs unto us. Soon, give or take a few billion years, we come to remember only in circular patterns and we keep coming back, and back…
We have arrived “here” as evolved and adapted from that which first made us. We were not always like this, but neither did we simply develop from a material fabric. We were first made of thought. Those thoughts were found within the minds of beings we cannot even begin to imagine the majesty, the power, the single-mindedness of. These creator beings gave voices to their thoughts and sent those voices as music throughout their realms, realms which encompass not only universes but all manner of unimaginable scapes.
Thus from the Void came the Music that formed the Cosmos. The Cosmos was imbued with Life and given the task of manipulating life in endless arrays of wonders that floated upon the Music of the Void. Thus did the expression, “the music of the spheres” come into being among the people of this universe because in their beginning they could all hear the music, and they could all dance to it.
Such is my prelude to a greatly distant past life memory that still brings to me a vague and confused echo of the Music of the Void.
The Memory, in free verse poetic form…
If you’d like to try your hand
at understanding Lavender
then you must be very sure
that life is not a game…
You won’t need a reason
just to be alone with Lavender
for her light so warm and pure
will draw you like a flame…
(From Approaching Lavender by Gordon Lightfoot)
I gave myself the name of Lavender
Oh, it was so long ago
in the very first meadow
among the fireflies and the honeysuckle
when no one else had yet awakened
from the dream we had shared.
I stood alone and viewed the world
as it looked before the first sunrise,
starlight reflecting from the waters
rippling gently upon swaying branches
of the as-yet unnamed trees.
In the wild unknown fullness of night
which others such as I still feared
where countless things had not yet appeared
I stepped forth sensing the land’s desire
and finally came to rest upon a hill
lulled by the call of a whippoorwill.
When I awoke from my sleep
the long night stretched forth beyond time
under a canvas of spinning stars
and a soft glow surrounded me:
the land’s open invitation to explore
all the veiled things she had in store.
I rose from my bed of sweetgrass
forever endowed with the fragrance of life,
and the soft touch of the flowers of Earth —
for such was the name of the world I beheld
when I was called to awaken from my dream —
and from the hill gushed forth a young stream.
Many years, long and short, have passed
and Earth, awakened under sun and moon
filled with light-seeking life blossomed wildly,
birthed in rash and spontaneous joy —
but came the starless darkness, and I cried
as in the endless burning so much died.
Though burdened now with cares and sorrows,
my earth body changed, aged, worn, broken —
in heart I remain true to my awakening dream
and still upon a hopeful earth I choose to wander.
I remain the same as on my first night, Lavender
whose breath retains the freshness of flowers
which now grow but between endless tombs.
Oh, sweet Lavender
your smile is like the golden sun;
I’d love to see you laugh and run
as naked as the sea
Oh sweet Lavender
as fragrant as the name you bear
please cast away the clothes you wear
and give your love to me…
(From: Approaching Lavender, by Gordon Lightfoot)