I occupied myself with continual prayers to the beloved Deity, King of Light, until I was deep in his hypnotic embrace. I did not even notice that the sounds of death progressively ceased, though I knew from the appearance of light that the sun had risen.
It was then that a glimmer of hope fell upon me like gold dust, for at that moment - with a clanging of metal, blood splattered but gleaming - a great warrior revealed himself at the entrance of the cave and entered that sacred space.
The sword he had was drawn but I recognized his Thessalian dress and saw the insignia of God upon his breast, so was unafraid. More than this, I felt sure as halcyon day had followed the unholy night that Apollo himself had come to claim me, just as I had hoped and prayed he would.
I got to my feet and walked towards him, holding out my palms by way of supplication as I intoned a hymn of thanks for deliverance against evil. But instead of lowering his sword, the warrior interrupted the hymn and addressed me in a cold, hard voice.
“Stop where you are and answer me now - are you a Cretan by birth?”
Even this did not startle me, so entranced was I by the certainty of deliverance from evil. I answered that I was not and a look of relief crossed his face, making way for a reflection of the wonder in mine. His eyes twinkled like silver stars in the half-light. I was but a step away when he stretched out both hands to lift my veil and twined heavy sections of the thick, golden locks upon my head around his fingers.
His tone became infinitely softer: “Where are you from?”
“I belong to the Temple.”
Invested with a veil of shining dew, a flow'ry veil delightful to the view…
I heard the dreamlike quality to my own voice as if it came from beyond me. So clearly did he resemble the god of my mind that I was dazzled entirely and forgot all other things.
Saturday 31 May 2014
Friday 30 May 2014
The Sacred War
It was during the Sacred War that I first set eyes upon the Tetrarch and my life changed forever in the very same instant.
I would learn shortly after this moment that he had come with many horsemen under his command and at last razed Kirrha to rubble on the Earth, having poisoned its waters and put to death most of the town’s people. As the cursed polis burned a band of the rebels somehow escaped and stormed up the winding road to Delphi, where they set about slaughtering the Saints in their beds.
Timocrates escaped while attending to God’s holy flame in the Corycian Cave. Stealthy as a fox before nightfall he crept back to rescue me from my chamber and took me for hiding to the secret place of dedication, beneath the priceless earth. I saw the fear in his eyes as he spoke and girded myself for more terror.
“I must retrieve the temple scrolls, the words that were given to us by the Gods that none can replace. You will remain here - still and silent as a statue, my child - and pray with all the force of Psyche that lord Phoebus Apollo will save us.”
Then he was gone, leaving me to cower like a new-born goat in the bowels of the Earth as I listened to the sounds of death and destruction crashing like cymbals on the ground above. While I devoted myself to fervent prayer in this hidden chamber, by their screams and the quickening of my heart I knew that a band of furies was raging above me. I pulled my veils closer to ward off the chill of that cold, dark grotto, my only comfort God's eternal flame. DreamHost rebate
I would learn shortly after this moment that he had come with many horsemen under his command and at last razed Kirrha to rubble on the Earth, having poisoned its waters and put to death most of the town’s people. As the cursed polis burned a band of the rebels somehow escaped and stormed up the winding road to Delphi, where they set about slaughtering the Saints in their beds.
Timocrates escaped while attending to God’s holy flame in the Corycian Cave. Stealthy as a fox before nightfall he crept back to rescue me from my chamber and took me for hiding to the secret place of dedication, beneath the priceless earth. I saw the fear in his eyes as he spoke and girded myself for more terror.
“I must retrieve the temple scrolls, the words that were given to us by the Gods that none can replace. You will remain here - still and silent as a statue, my child - and pray with all the force of Psyche that lord Phoebus Apollo will save us.”
Then he was gone, leaving me to cower like a new-born goat in the bowels of the Earth as I listened to the sounds of death and destruction crashing like cymbals on the ground above. While I devoted myself to fervent prayer in this hidden chamber, by their screams and the quickening of my heart I knew that a band of furies was raging above me. I pulled my veils closer to ward off the chill of that cold, dark grotto, my only comfort God's eternal flame. DreamHost rebate
Thursday 29 May 2014
Kingdom of Eternity
Once I was asked when he - Dionysus - first came here.
Who can say? I should have answered, for what is time to the kingdom of eternity? There are only hours of the day, seasons of the sun and cycles marked by the passage of the moon.
Most vehemently have I been warned by the Saints to never fall beneath the sway of time, because that would bring death to all prophecy. The pendulum might swing, but such as I must remain above it in a state of perfect balance.
Daily am I reminded that time is of no consequence and fate unfolds precisely as the gods command it. When this occurs is immaterial, the potential for all action being ever-present. We are chiefly concerned here with what is infinite, although men so often desire to make fixed points for the dead books they call history.
“For this reason”, my guardian Saint Timocrates informed me – quite pompously, in fact – when I questioned him on the matter, “the Amphictyonic League has taken it upon itself to regulate all calendars of the civilised world that we might subjugate for perpetuity the menace of time at the centre of the Earth.”
For the sake of the initial inquiry, however, it was sufficient to say that Dionysus comes at first sighting of the Pleiades, accompanied always by Euterpe, whose hypnotic sounds will soar over Parnassus from flutes poised like spears of moonlight on the muse’s lips.
What happens then, who can say? It is one of the mysteries we cannot share easily, for like dreams in the stillness of the night, memories of those days are as mist in the fire of morning.
Who can say? I should have answered, for what is time to the kingdom of eternity? There are only hours of the day, seasons of the sun and cycles marked by the passage of the moon.
Most vehemently have I been warned by the Saints to never fall beneath the sway of time, because that would bring death to all prophecy. The pendulum might swing, but such as I must remain above it in a state of perfect balance.
Daily am I reminded that time is of no consequence and fate unfolds precisely as the gods command it. When this occurs is immaterial, the potential for all action being ever-present. We are chiefly concerned here with what is infinite, although men so often desire to make fixed points for the dead books they call history.
“For this reason”, my guardian Saint Timocrates informed me – quite pompously, in fact – when I questioned him on the matter, “the Amphictyonic League has taken it upon itself to regulate all calendars of the civilised world that we might subjugate for perpetuity the menace of time at the centre of the Earth.”
For the sake of the initial inquiry, however, it was sufficient to say that Dionysus comes at first sighting of the Pleiades, accompanied always by Euterpe, whose hypnotic sounds will soar over Parnassus from flutes poised like spears of moonlight on the muse’s lips.
What happens then, who can say? It is one of the mysteries we cannot share easily, for like dreams in the stillness of the night, memories of those days are as mist in the fire of morning.
Wednesday 28 May 2014
The Nightingale
It is on the seventh day of each month that the future lives of men are unveiled and they come from all parts of the Earth to know what the fates have in store for them. This is except for during the winter months, when twice-born Dionysus returns and natural chaos reigns in place of Apollo’s measured reason.
When frost is on the ground and the sheaves of wheat have frozen back into the Earth – when the great, bright star of Maia appears on the horizon – then it is that nine wild maenads herald the arrival of Dionysus. His body is buried very close to where I am standing and during his season our dedications are made for to the following year’s harvest, while we pray that the sun God will return, his golden youth be resurrected.
When I am satisfied that the purification rituals have been performed correctly and the Temple is spotlessly clean, I walk towards the entrance of the great hall. It is elaborately decorated with all manner of votives – burnished golden shields, statues, cauldrons, tripods and bows - from all four corners of the Earth. Counted amongst them are the ensigns and symbols of every noble family that is known to this world.
I instinctively look up before leaving Apollo’s house, to above the entrance where a thousand garlands of laurel create fragrant canopies beneath the ceiling and pay host to the songbirds that sing his praises. The sweetest voice I ever heard belongs to the nightingale, who reveals to those with ears to hear the innermost longing of the psyche. A pure, shrill note breaks the silence and escapes into Echo’s lonely realm.
When daybreak comes I shall return.
When frost is on the ground and the sheaves of wheat have frozen back into the Earth – when the great, bright star of Maia appears on the horizon – then it is that nine wild maenads herald the arrival of Dionysus. His body is buried very close to where I am standing and during his season our dedications are made for to the following year’s harvest, while we pray that the sun God will return, his golden youth be resurrected.
When I am satisfied that the purification rituals have been performed correctly and the Temple is spotlessly clean, I walk towards the entrance of the great hall. It is elaborately decorated with all manner of votives – burnished golden shields, statues, cauldrons, tripods and bows - from all four corners of the Earth. Counted amongst them are the ensigns and symbols of every noble family that is known to this world.
I instinctively look up before leaving Apollo’s house, to above the entrance where a thousand garlands of laurel create fragrant canopies beneath the ceiling and pay host to the songbirds that sing his praises. The sweetest voice I ever heard belongs to the nightingale, who reveals to those with ears to hear the innermost longing of the psyche. A pure, shrill note breaks the silence and escapes into Echo’s lonely realm.
When daybreak comes I shall return.
Tuesday 27 May 2014
The Temple
To the left of the house of Hades under a graceful white cypress a well offers spring water. Don’t drink there. Find the well by the lake of memory. Guardians protect the cold water. Tell them…
I am standing in the centre of a great rectangular hall with my head held high and my long, bright hair wound into an elaborate arrangement that is held in place by a gleaming diadem. My white linen robe is bound with pure gold and I am standing still as a statue, with one eye fixed upon the future as the other observes what is past.
There is no wind beneath the temple roof and the air is warm, within and without. The only sounds that can be heard are an occasional bleating of goats and the distant murmuring of servants as they make ready for the Spring Council, which is to be held here in three and a half days.
I have already swept clean the marble floor and it shines like the full moon of Amalios. Mid-morning sunrays flood the hallowed space, infusing every atom. Narrow gaps between the thick, rounded pillars reveal sections of a motionless scene, silent as if time had ceased.
Happy are the men who enter this house and ask of me, “What do you see?” The wisest make the best of the answer they are given, but many enlist the counsel of Saints to assist with their understanding. Others seek more, but seldom to any avail, for there is a way that we do things at this place - the navel of the world - where the future is inscribed on lead.
I stand within the fourth Apollonian Temple to have been built here, which has undergone extensive and ongoing repair works following the War that almost destroyed it. The first Temple was much smaller than the present building and constructed from branches of Thessaly’s sacred laurel trees, while the next was created by bees of wax and feathers, designed to bridge the gap between Earth and the underworld.
Bees make the journey to and from Hades as a matter of course and the secrets they retrieve therein are for the golden ears of Apollo and his twin sister Artemis, the virgin huntress, keeper of the moon.
The third temple was a great bronze edifice, which stood for many years before the heat of the Sun God melted it back into the Earth. The fourth was built before I took up my office and the fifth shall be put on its foundations when I have left for the Elysium Fields.
I am standing in the centre of a great rectangular hall with my head held high and my long, bright hair wound into an elaborate arrangement that is held in place by a gleaming diadem. My white linen robe is bound with pure gold and I am standing still as a statue, with one eye fixed upon the future as the other observes what is past.
There is no wind beneath the temple roof and the air is warm, within and without. The only sounds that can be heard are an occasional bleating of goats and the distant murmuring of servants as they make ready for the Spring Council, which is to be held here in three and a half days.
I have already swept clean the marble floor and it shines like the full moon of Amalios. Mid-morning sunrays flood the hallowed space, infusing every atom. Narrow gaps between the thick, rounded pillars reveal sections of a motionless scene, silent as if time had ceased.
Happy are the men who enter this house and ask of me, “What do you see?” The wisest make the best of the answer they are given, but many enlist the counsel of Saints to assist with their understanding. Others seek more, but seldom to any avail, for there is a way that we do things at this place - the navel of the world - where the future is inscribed on lead.
I stand within the fourth Apollonian Temple to have been built here, which has undergone extensive and ongoing repair works following the War that almost destroyed it. The first Temple was much smaller than the present building and constructed from branches of Thessaly’s sacred laurel trees, while the next was created by bees of wax and feathers, designed to bridge the gap between Earth and the underworld.
Bees make the journey to and from Hades as a matter of course and the secrets they retrieve therein are for the golden ears of Apollo and his twin sister Artemis, the virgin huntress, keeper of the moon.
The third temple was a great bronze edifice, which stood for many years before the heat of the Sun God melted it back into the Earth. The fourth was built before I took up my office and the fifth shall be put on its foundations when I have left for the Elysium Fields.
The Unconquered Warrior
“You are a sly, uncontrollable creature and half of me is now enthralled. So come, whisper more of your sweet nothings in my shell-like ear – but take good care that my husband does not hear!”
He leaned towards her with half closed eyes. “You are immortal and invincible. If only you could show me that your body has a heart we would rule the cosmos completely….”
She cut him off sharply and raised a warning hand. “And why should I have a heart, foolish being, when such a thing was made to just be broken? Do you not know that my age-old son – the unconquered warrior – stands poised right above you with his deadly, love-tipped arrow. One more word about love and you, Dionysus, shall be blighted for your eternal life by the lust of Aphrodite, abandoned to Ariadne’s web by this fatal charm”.
She turned towards the herald of all ages and held out her hand. “Come now, Magician – it is time for us to make another mystery, for you are the one that must travel time to tell this story, but not before I invest you with my invincible will….”
Apollo turned to their father and bowed. “The muses who love me shall make here their bed. The will of the King of the Gods shall be carved out in lead”.
Zeus praised his Sun, now beaming. “Blessed you are, Prince of Paeans, for you are the one who shall dictate my whims and wishes to the wondering world. But first you must find a worthy instrument for our fateful music…”
Come, blessed pow'r, thy mystics' mem'ry wake, to holy rites, and Lethe's fetters break - Orphic hymn to Mnemosyne
He leaned towards her with half closed eyes. “You are immortal and invincible. If only you could show me that your body has a heart we would rule the cosmos completely….”
She cut him off sharply and raised a warning hand. “And why should I have a heart, foolish being, when such a thing was made to just be broken? Do you not know that my age-old son – the unconquered warrior – stands poised right above you with his deadly, love-tipped arrow. One more word about love and you, Dionysus, shall be blighted for your eternal life by the lust of Aphrodite, abandoned to Ariadne’s web by this fatal charm”.
She turned towards the herald of all ages and held out her hand. “Come now, Magician – it is time for us to make another mystery, for you are the one that must travel time to tell this story, but not before I invest you with my invincible will….”
Apollo turned to their father and bowed. “The muses who love me shall make here their bed. The will of the King of the Gods shall be carved out in lead”.
Zeus praised his Sun, now beaming. “Blessed you are, Prince of Paeans, for you are the one who shall dictate my whims and wishes to the wondering world. But first you must find a worthy instrument for our fateful music…”
Come, blessed pow'r, thy mystics' mem'ry wake, to holy rites, and Lethe's fetters break - Orphic hymn to Mnemosyne
Monday 26 May 2014
Pearl of Poseidon's Sea
The twice-born child threw back his head and laughed, his eyes now dancing as he took another draught. He turned to his deadly mistress and handed her the urn, at once feeling nothing but deepest desire.
“Wet your lovely lips and hark at this!”
As she raised the earthenware jar to her sweet, pink mouth a murmur of surrender left her star-crossed lover. “Fair-breasted Queen of my most erotic dreams - he may become a poet, my proud brother, but sure as day is night he is no lover.“
She took a second sip as he kissed her milk-white throat. Her voice was teasing, as ever. “Poor Dionysus, has your wine gone bitter! Who better than Apollo, voice of all reason, to relay the will of God to man?”
“Once again you wound me, daughter of the white-flecked foam. Would you really prefer his endless rationing to immortal death from too much loving?” His mouth fell down upon her breast, warm and soft as velvet beneath the silky, see-through dress.
Her eyes followed his mouth. “You play to your strengths, I’ll grant you that, but what if death holds no temptation, even if the manner of dying might so much?”
“Pearl of Poseidon’s sea, how cruel that you pretend not to see! The fairest - females - of the universe have an inner understanding of my mystery…”
“Wet your lovely lips and hark at this!”
As she raised the earthenware jar to her sweet, pink mouth a murmur of surrender left her star-crossed lover. “Fair-breasted Queen of my most erotic dreams - he may become a poet, my proud brother, but sure as day is night he is no lover.“
She took a second sip as he kissed her milk-white throat. Her voice was teasing, as ever. “Poor Dionysus, has your wine gone bitter! Who better than Apollo, voice of all reason, to relay the will of God to man?”
“Once again you wound me, daughter of the white-flecked foam. Would you really prefer his endless rationing to immortal death from too much loving?” His mouth fell down upon her breast, warm and soft as velvet beneath the silky, see-through dress.
Her eyes followed his mouth. “You play to your strengths, I’ll grant you that, but what if death holds no temptation, even if the manner of dying might so much?”
“Pearl of Poseidon’s sea, how cruel that you pretend not to see! The fairest - females - of the universe have an inner understanding of my mystery…”
Turtleshell Lyre
Standing on the outskirt of the forest, Hermes whispered a message to his light‐headed, wine‐loving friend: “Zeus’s twice‐born son, your time shall surely come. You are the living vine, for you the stars will shine”.
The wolf by Apollo’s side pricked up its ears and whined as his cold, beautiful master raised an arched eyebrow: “I am, Father, bringer of the cosmic light, voice of all reason and destroyer of dark night.….”
Zeus raised an eyebrow of his own. “How soon, I wonder, my great golden child, ’til you think yourself greater, even, than I?”
Apollo’s deer‐sister entreated him in an urgent voice. “Harness your pride, beloved brother, lest the chariot of the sun is struck down by lightening and the silver moon dies of grief! Then all shall witness this licentious youth sober in a second and sit upon thy gilded chariot!”
Apollo nodded slowly at the bull before him. “Ay, beloved sister of the moon, with his great, hairy hand upon my priceless goblet, while his sluts strum tuneless ditties upon the incomparable turtleshell lyre!”
Dionysus raised his cup to them and smiled: “You have my blessing, brother. I think not to steer the chariot of the sun, nor to take your hallowed place in heaven, I’d rather have a bit of fun….I shall keep the lyre, though, for the sound of music shall do much to make our mystery!”
The wolf by Apollo’s side pricked up its ears and whined as his cold, beautiful master raised an arched eyebrow: “I am, Father, bringer of the cosmic light, voice of all reason and destroyer of dark night.….”
Zeus raised an eyebrow of his own. “How soon, I wonder, my great golden child, ’til you think yourself greater, even, than I?”
Apollo’s deer‐sister entreated him in an urgent voice. “Harness your pride, beloved brother, lest the chariot of the sun is struck down by lightening and the silver moon dies of grief! Then all shall witness this licentious youth sober in a second and sit upon thy gilded chariot!”
Apollo nodded slowly at the bull before him. “Ay, beloved sister of the moon, with his great, hairy hand upon my priceless goblet, while his sluts strum tuneless ditties upon the incomparable turtleshell lyre!”
Dionysus raised his cup to them and smiled: “You have my blessing, brother. I think not to steer the chariot of the sun, nor to take your hallowed place in heaven, I’d rather have a bit of fun….I shall keep the lyre, though, for the sound of music shall do much to make our mystery!”
Sunday 25 May 2014
Eagles of East and West
In a place beyond time and space, illumined by the midnight sun, Zeus brought to mind the Eagles of East and West. Holding them in sight, he gave to them their mission, saying: “Fly now each of you in his own direction. Neither is swifter than the other; the place where you meet I shall pin down forever as the centre of this world.
When their flight was complete and the marker laid down, Zeus commanded the gods to come down from their clouds to witness the creation of his temple on Earth. Each arrived swiftly in his or her elemental guise, Sun and Moon first among equals.
A bull emerged from the forest, metamorphosing with a swagger into a shining youth. He walked hand-in-hand with the loveliest female and raised to her moistened lips an earthen jar of ruby‐coloured wine.
Her love‐child laughed with his magician .
Hera gazed broodingly at the twice‐born son of his father and a nimbus descended on the assembly. “I hope you will not reserve too many honours for the youth Dionysus, husband, for he is only quite immortal, with half true blood in his blue, engorged veins”.
Zeus roared with laughter and raised a toast to his progeny. “But see the ones who are with him, sister, you must admit he is in great company - the body of desire with the power of love and herald of all ages - I see no issue here but that which is great!”
He turned to his eldest boy, golden Sun of heaven. “Come now Apollo, step beyond the clouds and send forth your rays. I would have you build me a house where men from all corners of the world will come to learn their destiny.”
When their flight was complete and the marker laid down, Zeus commanded the gods to come down from their clouds to witness the creation of his temple on Earth. Each arrived swiftly in his or her elemental guise, Sun and Moon first among equals.
A bull emerged from the forest, metamorphosing with a swagger into a shining youth. He walked hand-in-hand with the loveliest female and raised to her moistened lips an earthen jar of ruby‐coloured wine.
Her love‐child laughed with his magician .
Hera gazed broodingly at the twice‐born son of his father and a nimbus descended on the assembly. “I hope you will not reserve too many honours for the youth Dionysus, husband, for he is only quite immortal, with half true blood in his blue, engorged veins”.
Zeus roared with laughter and raised a toast to his progeny. “But see the ones who are with him, sister, you must admit he is in great company - the body of desire with the power of love and herald of all ages - I see no issue here but that which is great!”
He turned to his eldest boy, golden Sun of heaven. “Come now Apollo, step beyond the clouds and send forth your rays. I would have you build me a house where men from all corners of the world will come to learn their destiny.”
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