St Christopher and a Cornish memory

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This post is a continuum of “Beyond Olympus

..

The Fool and Fish Hook

He went fishing, 
but carried a little child 
on shoulder
crossing a river swift; 

his charge descending 
into earthly things 
heavily and more heavily 
crushed him.

He set his burden 
on the river bank; 
the Child turned into Light 
and is his blessing. 

The fool became a saint. 
On the brink with rod and line 
his blood and sweat 
hook heaven and earth together 
bringing to surface 
our deepest fish 
to break the net. 

When he stands still, 
refilling within, 
the world no longer tells him 
what to do.  
Looking in the well, he is the well. 
His garment indifferently 
protects from winter wind, 
receives the summer rain: 
his nutty eyes shine serene
about his catch

and only they 
who truly know this Fool 
dare come into sight;  

"for the eyes in his head 
see the world spinning 
round."

2004,  from The Masters’ Eye

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Fool, lamb & Angel ’87

..

“Fool, why do you stand out there in the rain, your arms out stretched?”

“I am embracing my song before it is uttered.”

Peter Adams

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Ventonwyn

When I was six 
I dropped a duck's egg on the grass 
to find out what would happen. 
My baby bursts. 
It spills the yellow gold. 
My mother scolds. 
"I didn't do it," I lie, 
frightened. 

Light released 
transmutes the bird 
overgrown in shell. 
Entering heart and soul 
within it, I must die!  

With shock, yet willingly, 
sunlight from the dark chamber 
released, becomes my Chariot. 
The little king feared 
the terrible mess of viscera 
and egg shell in the dirt. 
What power have these now? 

The earth remains intact 
with mother's anger at broken egg. 



In the grass around this scene, 
geese stretch out their long white necks 
at me, and hiss; 
bed-sheets blow on the washing line, 
a swing with wooden seat 
creaks new rope on apple branch, 
thunder clouds play hide and seek 
on sun-shot fields to frighten the cows 

and along the dark moorland's rim 
the Pyramids - cornish china clay - 
delicate, silvery touch 
the sky, moving 
the light a little.

2004, from The Masters’ Eye

Serpent & greek goddesses, circa 1956

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I am thinking also today, of sheep … the sheep which are my woolly thoughts, Bach’s sheep to safely graze, St Christopher, the shepherd Self who is “the good shepherd of the parables, and none of the sheep, the human personal expressions, is lost for ever” … and sheep as well, along the coastal path of a human story, Cancer Capricorn.   The concluding episode in my welsh Coastal Path series is due.   I grew up among sheep.  My sweetheart – an Aries tup – found and gave me this picture for my birthday:

Painter unknown.  It reminds me of the cliff path east of Hastings

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My adventure invites fellow travellers.  I am a poet, an artist and a seer.  I welcome conversation among the PHILO SOFIA, the lovers of wisdom.

This blog is  a vehicle to promote my published work – The Sacred India Tarot (with Rohit Arya, Yogi Impressions Books) and The Dreamer in the Dream – a collection of short stories (0 Books) – along with many other creations in house.  

I write, illustrate, design and print my books.   Watch this space.

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