Whatever were those walls, pillars of light,
they seemed less things, less objects,
than slowly shifting looks of delight,
modes of some divine music, they seemed
what jewels might only aspire to be,
what jewels, could they dream, might have dreamed.
Vision alighting on a segment of glitterings
felt like expert fingers alighting on piano keys,
felt like the marriage of insight and elation,
the human genius’ breakthrough
but a faint or pale imitation…
And the vast spaces, the vast spaces
within this complex of mansion-music
only fed the imagination,
the only food and drink I required,
the most caring and intense lover,
seemingly cold, yet utterly inspired.
Nor did I need sleep as humans do…
I was a new arrival pushing through
two towering curving doors,
gliding across an oval balcony,
marble-white, overlooking scores
of structures glittering music too,
that, mosque-like, had been poking through
a mist of dawn.
To a mentor, Hermann Hesse, was I assigned
who’d visited me the day before,
barely recognizable, of like mind.
All the glitterings, resplendence seen,
were the petals of those who would not
be compelled to return to earth
nor again take birth.
What a city it was – for artists
who raised wisdom even above all art,
intent on purging at last
lingering traces in the heart,
supporting, caring for one another,
congregating, celebrating the delights
of one another’s insights.
I heard the liberated few –
Lao Tzu, Buddha, Socrates, Jesus –
would shortly be passing through,
delivering discourses, guiding us through
the final stage…
What happiness haloed one and all,
what happiness encompassing, suffusing all,
untethered to circumstance, deed, or art,
self-sustaining, a child of the heart!
Be First to Comment