The river of music
Flowed through and around him
The face twisted in recognition
The figure becoming more visible
A rising irritation of his awareness
A reminder of dreams left undone.
The veil lifts slowly
A mirage of mystery
Deep in his memory
A promise waiting to be fulfilled
An uncertain beginning
Lost in the rope of the universe
Filled with the curling rhythm
He began to open
His mind and body
Releasing the tension
The veil lifts slowly.
In the centre, the very beginning
In the seat of passion
The centre of his awareness
There is a willingness
To explore, to accept horizons
Of wonderous adventure
With no expectation or limit
To play openly within the possibility
That this or that may or may not be.
All will be permitted.
All will be received
Nothing need be disputed
No one will be deceived.
There will be a divine balance.
Now I am become death the destroyer
Of worlds. Dance Kali. Dance Shiva.
Bring to the High Lords the fruits
Of your endeavours.
There is a dragon dancing in my dream
At the apex of the mountain ice capped
In the mystic blue, this arctic existence
Cannot restrain his belching antic flame.
Ahura Mazdah contains his wisdom
Observes the coming of the sun
The forces of coriolis will open
The season of Mithra in glory
Born of the stones that formed the anvil
Of all beginning. See him come forth
And make his stand. The mighty dragon
Sheathes his claws and dances
Moving his head from side to side
With gnashing teeth open wide
With spitting of blood, smoke and fire.
But these two are brothers.
They dance in cadence
Without need for conflict or conflagration.
The dying light from the flickering candles
Illuminates the gentle dessert of the night
Across lines of camels kneeling in defense
Of keening gusts
Cutting winds which gather
To drive the sand
Bitingly into the depths of darkness.
Each man contemplating
The colour of his sins
Prays to his god for understanding
Or at least forgiveness.
The storm gathers
Gripping the vault of heaven
AN, god of the air and sun.
Great father of all
Thrusting through determination
Twists in sinuous perplexity
Drowning all in dark curtains of grit and sand.
The great mother goddess Ninhursag
Closes her face in a veil
Listening for the song of Ishtar
Taught at the knee of
Nanna the moon goddess.
For the children of Sumer
Are no stranger to the dance
Some of them turning and swirling
In dervish trance
In their patterns of worship
To Tesup the Lord of the Storm.
So come all ye mighty Lords
Of Nefut and Niger
Fall down before him
The leader of the Dance.
The rain falls in a heavy blanket
All is covered — all leaves and trunks
And bush beneath
Fronds and vines the lush growth
Of the living forest
Extends its arms to embrace
The coming of the rain.
The trees form a mighty canopy
A leafy roof which extends, covers
Even the village by the path
At the edge of the layers
At the edge of where it ends
Where the jungle becomes a margin
Where it begins to die.
As the dancers gather
As the prayers begin
They turn their faces
To Old Babalue
Babaluaye for wisdom
Healing the wounds
To help find a direction.
To Abasi, You creator god
Lord of the Sky
Listen now hear the rhythm
The rhythm of the drum
As they sway and call to Domfe
He who brings the wind and rain
The seed maker
He who lets the forest live again.
Now the drum and the wind subside
The rain ceases and so ebbs the tide.
The river of music no longer flows
The face begins to lose its shape.
The figure begins to subside.
Into sleep into solitude
The dreams fade with the setting sun.
The veil sinks slowly
The mirage diminishes
A vision that dims
The echo of a distant hush
A promise unfulfilled
Lost in the tenuous universe
His body rhythm slows
Turning to contemplate
The end of his dream
Easing the tension
The veil sinks slowly.
By John Hall
Copyright – John Hall 13/8/04