The Veil Of Eden - Part 4 Poem by Barry Van Asten

The Veil Of Eden - Part 4

Part IV - The Blossom And The Sigh

From this holy place I go
Unto a wilderness unknown;
Unto a place where love, outgrown,
Lies barren, for it cannot grow.
Here, the spirit of silent birth
Hath thundered long unto the sea,
And virtue thrown to devilry
Is all that purity is worth.
For upon this world mankind doth tread
'Twixt an everlasting faint dimension
And things beyond man's comprehension;
Beyond the living and the dead.
Yet what bright moon on the horizon
Will sail the oracles of space
And revealeth love's eternal face?
In measure met - all things are one,
The Lord of Life hath wished it so;
For He gaveth man his opposite,
His dual expression - black and white.
And time and spasmodic change shall flow
As the body yields to spring passions
And there, breathe life - it breatheth yet,
Strong by nature's calling, set
Into a robe of dreams - man's visions
Are life's rememberance of the dead.
The stars are sown, the torn veil rent
And the Host of the Heavenly sacrament
Fell tearful at man's side and said:
Enough of unholiness and of death,
For all that liveth in vain, shalt sing
Of life's beauty over everything!
Thus, the great lie of man, beneath
The starry sadness of Heaven, drawn
Unto soft whisperings that revealed
Nothing in joy is twice concealed
By woman, at her darkling dawn.
And time wilt cease for moonlight priests
At the extinguishing of the light,
For darkness be their God of might;
A continual conjuring of strange beasts
That come, by Royal sacrifice
To trample hooves in tribal dust;
To work their foul alluring lust
And in the madness found - rejoice.
On the Holy mount shalt man seek
The glory of his radiant star
That hath retreated, and gone far
From the ceremonies of the meek.
Here shalt corpses come to lie -
The glory of our loved dead:
Every one a good man's head
Unstirred by the blossom and the sigh!
And God hath cast thy fortunes great
Into scented halls of hate;
This be thy mannequin of woe
For the elements hath found ye so
Rich in joy on wings of sadness:
Thou art sent scrying into madness!
And with thine new-found love, retrace
Thine footsteps to the Holy place
And supplicate thine self in prayer!


But soft! here I invoketh to thee - Air!


I am loud and silent: I am Air;
I am the words of war and prayer,
On streams to carry love and hate
Drawn from hearts both small and great!
And I am flattery which is joy;
I am thy breath, I am thy sigh.
And I make tempests of thy bones
When mine rough winds upon thee moans.
Within, without, I am the storm
Of change, thy progress without form!


O carry, carry, wings of Air
Man in his boat adrift, despair;
Seeketh still man, of the higher...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Fire!


I am thine inmost: I am Fire;
I am thy flower of desire.
I am thy flickerings, set in pain:
Thine serpent of unsaintly reign!
And I bring joy and ease and love
From under the cloak of lust, I move,
Ever burning, though, thee be still -
I goeth onwards in thine thrill
Of ecstasy, that in thee be
Flames of uncontainable devilry!


O burn, burn, thy flames of Fire
Unto man's heart that doth aspire;
Thy love, thy melancholy rapture...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Water!


I am thine thought: I am Water;
Thy mother, thy bride, thy Holy daughter.
I am thy wanderings that resteth not;
Thine river that ever disturbs thy lot!
And I am the flow of fate, foresee
Thine own miracle of thy destiny.
And I be calm and showeth the moon
Or whipped by tempest and typhoon
That turn thee swift upon thine will
Unto mine waters - magical!


O roll, roll, thy Waters sweet
Over man's brow in defeat
And strike thy pleasing chords of mirth!


Here, I invoketh to thee - Earth!


I am thine form: I am Earth;
I am thy firmament of birth!
I am thine glories and thine fear,
Slow of change, I doth appear
Dull and heavy, I confess
I am the vacuum of thy stubbornness.
I am thy surface, point and plane -
I am the laughter in thy pain.
I am thy dream of lips unmet:
Yea! I, the spectre of regret!


O fold, fold, Earth manifold,
Thy temple stones, thy bed of old
Upon man's boundless breast, and sit...


Here, I invoketh to thee - Spirit!


I am thine core: I am Spirit;
I seize thee by thy brain and will it
To mine works that centre thee;
To thine masked wonder: Liberty!
And I be stirred and moved by song
For I am the fortunes of the strong
Soul that sleeps and wakes once more:
I am thine entity to adore!
Mine kisses giveth endless joy
For they be sweetness to thy sigh.


O kiss, kiss, Spirit bliss,
The lips of man that doth caress
Passion's ardour and repents...


Here endeth the song of the elements!

Barry Van Asten

Barry Van Asten

Birmingham, England
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