YIN & YANG & THE IN-BETWEEN

The pillow clouds punch up the horizon of my sweet fatigue after a long journey across the municipalities of should & should not.  I man the tiller of my dream-craft to cross the Eidetic Sea to the land called Hypnogogia. The Hypnogogians till the two fold gardens with ceaseless mirth & befuddling invention. It is on those shores I see the creatures that inform the very spine of why of how & when. Three horses gallop full bore. Hell bent on leather. Across a landscape bereft of colour.

Dear Dr. Freud? 

Pray tell what does it all mean? I don’t see a singly sexual innuendo here. Please respond by return post.

R

 

FRIEZE

“Everything changes!”  The words the lonely wanderer spoke on the foot path into the Himalayas. The Cosmic joke : When you go as fast as fast can go everything comes to a full stop. Period. The speed of light arrests time. Simultaneity/Multiplicity. One dream-laden eyelid, shuttering down in the violet of twilight on the floating island of Mesmer. The elephant enters the lotus pond in time-lapse without a splash & it all comes into being. By the time the eye opens once again a whole Universe has been & now is gone. Like the elephant.

Dear Dr Jung

Any thoughts? Is it the three? Is it the black and white? Is it the mare or the stallion or the piebald pony in between? Please send a smoke signal or two. I will not be able to sleep otherwise, anyhow.

R

COHERENCE

Wolf. Horse. Mountain. Snow. Separate, they baffle. In the logic of the dream they all know their place & time. In the vision, I am the wolf. I am the horse. I am the cold wind. I am that distant mountain. I am that speed. I am that  stillness. It holds. It holds. But only for one moment. One moment. One moment.

Dear Dr  L. Tzu,

So what you have not said in any of the letters you have not sent in answer to the enquiry I meant to send about the meaning of my recurrent  dream of the three horses in the black and white -  please indicate what I am supposed to make of such an inscrutability.

Forever yours,

R

 

HIRUNDICHTHYS

Paexocoetus / Progni-ichthys Exocetus /Cheilopogon/  Japanese Short-fin / Spot-fin / Black-fin / Atlantic White-tip / Narrow-head / Blue  / Pharaoh /  Four-wing ‘/ Blunt-nose / Sail-fin /Black-sail / Butterfly /Mirror-wing / Stained / Easter Island /  Small-head /  Large-scale / Tringa / Yellow-wing  / Limpid-wing / Clear /  California / Margined /  Short-nosed / Blotch-wing / Beauty-fin  / Glider / Back-spot  /Abe’s

THE DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE 

The swell of the open sea - glassy, unbroken.

Fifty flying fish                     break free                   to open air.

My water craft tossed                           between

the depthless

                                    and the

                                    deep.

 

FISH'S DREAM

FLYING FISH! OH FLYING FISH!

Flying fish! oh flying fish!

Now i’ve wished my winsome wish,

Random chance or blindest fate

Water wings with weightless weight.

In what ether, thin and high,

Rose the shimmer of your eye?

Did the angels give a hand -

Not the water, not the land?

Hunted high and hunted low

Mahi Mahi from below.

From above, the Frigates dive.

Wings - the way to stay alive.

What could form so slight a thing -

Breezes light and ripple’s ring?

Who loosed the sinews of my heart?

What the science, what the art?

Nature slow or Godly Speed 

Helix spiral or piper’s reed?

Below the surface - above the deep

Did She who made the whale make thee?

Flying fish! oh flying fish!

Now i’ve wished my winsome wish,

Random chance or blindest fate -

Water wings with weightless weight

 

Triptych: Sutta 23: TWIN FLAMES

Love. Carnal, real time love between a man and a woman. Tango. Waltz. Two-step. Gavotte. Break Dancing. To truly dance that dance the lovers must be prepared to sacrifice all. Nothing left but the dance. A dance tempered in fire. To merge as flames. Twin flames. Lovers from the beginning. Across infinite galaxies. Across eons. To burn. To burn. To become the fire itself till there’s nothing left but the heat rising. The air pirouetting in slow motion. The dark of night - finally  - at ease.

 

FIRE DANCERS

& what of those beautiful tango dancers, Adam & Eve? You & me.  I pin so much hope on finding that one being who completes me. To jive, like the joyous, eight-footed octopod rolling in the deep of love-bliss, that Plato describes so succinctly, so comically. Complete. Married at the umbilicus. Yeshuah & the Magdelena. Yoni & Lingam. Romeo & Mata Hari. Judas & Juliet. & yet, & yet - I still - I still believe. Across the eons & vast expanses of inter-
galactic, inter-Cosmic time, each reaches out to the other. Yearning. Knowing completion is only a lifetime away. Maybe this time. Maybe. In the jostled crowd a face surfaces. A being. A recognition. Fingertips touch. A prestidigitation. An imbrication. The fruit is red, juicy with endless jewels locked into precision. The tango in the flames. For me, it continues. & who are you? Could it be you?