A Kind of Magic

When his love he doth espy, let her shine as gloriously as the Venus of the sky - William Shakespeare


It wasn’t the flickering light in the upper storey window that drew the Watcher’s attention, for many lights vied for his attention that evening. It was a melody drifting upwards through the gradually darkening sky. A rose-gold sun set the western horizon alight as the lone figure made slow, wide circles in the radiant atmosphere.

Drawn by her irresistible presence below, he descended to the house with eight rooms where she dwelt. The flame of a candle within licked gently at the surrounding air and a heady scent was carried to him with the rising music. Deeply he inspired, considering the soul within. She was stretched like a cat upon the bed, with an open book face-down beside her on the pillow. His eye was now fixed.

One golden glance of what should be.

A powerful gust of wind blew the window open and she jumped out of her skin, shaken from her hazy reverie by the sudden noise and rush of cool air. Moving like quicksilver, he silently slipped inside. Staring meditatively at the breached window, she searched the indigo space he left behind him. A magnificent aura permeated the room, gracing her skin with a robe of divine beauty.

Arising thoughtfully, she took a cautious step towards the opening. He watched again while she turned her head north and then south, seeking what or whomsoever had disturbed the rose-scented ether.

Finding nothing but the dying throes of day she fastened shut the window and lay down again, book held loosely in hand, not quite unaware of the almost unexpected arrival of the thrice-descended master. The Led display of her mobile phone revealed that it was 22.22.

With avid concentration she listened to the voice that came into her room via the radio. A drama was set to unfold, of that she could be sure. Doubtless there was a kind of magic taking place right there and then, with her at the centre of its endlessly opening and closing circle.

She also knew she was no longer alone, for a profound change had occurred that no-one could deny. Luscious chords swelled like a rising ocean, sweeping over her body in sensuous waves. The lost history of time unfolded in his fathomless mind.

Mother of all Mysteries

The setting midsummer sun found the witness in a distinctly prayerful posture, shrouded by heady masala incense and calling Earth to witness. Venus had emerged, triumphant as a diamond on her band of gold, heralding the rising moon and guided to the altar by a vast and dominant Jupiter.

Pondering this crystal-clear sky, the witness could see how the dazzling quintessential force of the even-star was polarised by the glowing pharos of Mars, beckoning his paramour as he bequeathed to her the dark and endless night. The imperator of war was in a state of surrender at the temple of beauty.

The witness wondered about the effects of Mars’ conjunction with Venus, Jupiter and Mercury beneath the perfect moon, which at that very instant was deflecting onto captivated Earth the magnified force of a sublime alchemical wedding.

This compelling planetary event was irresistibly conspiring with the precession of the equinoxes to create the most potent cosmic conditions that had ever been witnessed from Earth - at least since the Star of the Magi heralded the turning point of history.

Or so it seemed.

How can such a sign be ignored? thought the witness.

The answer was that it could not!

That the divine plan might remain unfulfilled was inconceivable, but how, precisely, it was to manifest would remain the Mother of all Mysteries.

Eros

Twilight fell like whispers of an echo.

Bade by Eros, 

 

Venus – like the bloom –transpired,

A star of smelted teardrops.

The Witness

If one goes deep enough in atomic physics one ends with a situation of pure chance - John Fowles, The Magus


The witness sighed, deep in thought, and approached an overloaded bookcase that was standing against the Eastern wall of Mysteries’ upper room, near to the point where horoscopes were cast.

Dazzling sunlight rendered a large cross-section of the case invisible with its blinding rays, while the lower parts were swathed in darkness, forming a vivid chiaroscuro on the rich mahogany canvas.

The lovingly burnished bookcase was home to a myriad esoteric masterworks and timeless classics.  Ancient volumes interspersed with lavishly illustrated fairy tales and poetry written in the green language were stacked two-deep in places and upside-down in others.

It would not be a simple matter to extract from all of this the book that the witness had in Mind. Indeed, at that moment in time it would be impossible.

Scanning the shelves intently, following the words on each well-worn spine with a neatly-nailed forefinger, everything but the item sought was readily apparent to the witness.

The shadow of a home-spun dream catcher - hypnotically swaying above the wide open window - crept inexorably along the ceiling like a spider’s web as minutes passed by into an hour of fruitless seeking. Church bells began ringing in the middle distance, heralding both an end of day and onset of night, bridging twilight with their other-worldly call to evensong.

Tension mounted in the upstairs of Mysteries with disturbing alacrity, causing a very mild sweat to break out on the witness’ furrowing brow. Thoughts from what was by any standards a wide-open brow chakra permeated the charged atmosphere with a note of concern.

Where on Earth IS the magic book?

No immediate answer to this question was forthcoming but the brain-racked witness ploughed on undeterred.

Didn’t I see it just after Halle Bop showed up in ’96 and the moon was side by side with Jupiter? 
Or perhaps it had been Venus….

Again there was no answer, but the witness now felt sure this was when the rare and ancient copy of ‘Pros Theon’, which translated into English as ‘By the Gods’, had last been consulted.

By Jove it’s Twelve years…. an entire Jupiter-return ago! But where is it now, for heaven’s sake?

Who could say?