[Image, image, image — it’s all about the image right now. The IMAGE. Is what holds the visual projection — not the visual projection itself. What IS the container, the ~imago~?
Imitation, Ghost, Phantom, Idea
Can we be REMINDED of something NEW
A new reminding
Reminding which yields insight
Startling
New realizations
"Images are souls, and our job is to meet them on the soul level"
"Talk with the image, and let the image talk for itself"
"No friend or animal wants to be interpreted, though they yearn to be understood"/known
BEDAZZLEMENT OF EMOTION
NECESSARY
Discovering the necessity within the image
An eye attuned to the dark ~ ] Brought forth fully 1/15/25 | 4:24-48pm
(The recitation audio is a bit swishy scratchy at times. I think — it must be the presence of the image, speaking. Textured intimations..)
Listen to the Recitation:
DOORKNOBS ARE NOT DOORS
They are broomsticks, beckoning continuities
Orbs and spheres and sacrums, skeletal
Systems to surmise, to survey the purveyance
Voyages to into, beyond what is yonder
Hill and hillock, cerulean sage, growing out and in
Wisdom, smoking blue vervain, reading the trails
Of sparkling white hinds, glowing gold, but not
Visually — the image is not visual — move beyond
The visual into the other senses. Move beyond
The other senses into the presence. An image is
A presence that reminds us of something
Reminding, remembering — we are remembered
Again and again on the path home, we remember
Who we are, who we meet, who the I is, who you are
Who meets us, on the path, who becomes the path
Our path before us, we "see" beyond seeing, we
"Smell" beyond smelling, we "touch" beyond touching,
We "hear" beyond hearing, we "taste" beyond tasting,
We "know" beyond knowing, we "proprioceive"
Beyond proprioception — each is a knob to dial
In, up or down, to the specific range needed, to
Vanish into the "sound"stage, where one's locus
Shifts into another real(m), into another here~in,
There~being, which is focused no longer on doing,
No longer mere being, but on where — on where
The being is. "Where are you?" Right now. Where
You are is para~mount. On which mountain will I find you
From which mountain did you descend to meet me
And where shall we go from here? Where in~deed
Is the quest~ion — positively pursuant to a charge
And charging on to a dawn undone, pink and purple
And green — lush verdant forest green, vibrant alive
Glowing goodness, the stalking image lingers
In the imagi~nation, the place where i~magis live
Into which we are in~vitus, from which the invitation
Comes, delivered to us, our psyche, our house
Signed and stamped, wax seal pressed, shimmering
Bedazzlement, flexible en route, the lion's share
Is transferred to our account — the number goes up
And the number signifies more than just a number
As 3 is more than 3, and 4 more than 4, and 5
More than 5, and 6, and 7, and 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
And so on, to 23, to 31, to 33, to 40 days holding
Vigil, in a circle inscribed, to call upon Gabriel
As one who memorizes the Quran, the names and
Unnames of G~d.s.x< we call to G and the angel
Answers — "What is it you want?" And we reply,
In tears — "Nothing" — then laughter, as we leave
The circle to find our teacher, and embrace
Each other, crying and laughing, thanking and good~byeing
For every sage something, surmountous of all was
Into what is and would be, were we to will it as
A wondering will-o'-wisp, stalking the grave~yard
Filled with marshflowers, cultivated wild, carnivorous
And kind, soft cotton tufts, suspended between orchid
Grasses, small pink dots and crimson stripes,
Pitcher plants in peat, sedge, leatherleaf fen,
Cranberry and black spruce, sundew and buckbean
A ringing bell fills the kettle, from an open coffin
As the red dragon bears down, a nightmare bearing
Nightmare upon nightmare, fire falling from the sky
And horrible screeching, screaming enticements
Of horror, every type of seduction of spirit, to come
Up from that protected place, to hold fast that silver
Bell — and yet, the ringing continues, the prayers
Continue — continue your ringing, your praying,
Let your sound sing image into world, let the moss
Applaud, sphagnum saint, sing again with the crowd
As the crowd roars and rears you forth anew
Community can emerge, and will henceforth
To become a part of you, and you a part of it, and
All a sum of all, and myth a piece of lore, and lore
A corner of folk, and folk a whole of fairy, and tale
Shall spin epic, and epic tale — the human becomes god
And the god, human, and more than human, and
More than god, and every animal, and every lifeform,
And every living and unliving beat of pulse, the rhythm
Of an entire cosmos breathing as one, yes, in yes
And no, in no — in the knowledge and knowing,
In the ceaseless growing and re~treating, of soul
And heart and spirit, sound — all are sound, and soundly
Becoming, a parody of pillory, a satire of sarcasm,
As wholesome simplicity, the earnest return
Hand in hand with the insensible image, the presence
Of that which guides us, into complexity, into beauty
Into strangeness unbeckoning, into perils and awe
The seat weaves itself, of reed and wick
And the fire abates — all~burned
The heat cooks the meal, grandmother's recipe
In cast iron kettle, over roaring flame
Handle carefully, the star that has fallen
A gentle kindred spirit, glimmering blue twinkle
Not fading, but vibrating, beating warmth into hand
Held kindly, as bespoke, as besought
Listen to the whispers of the feather tendriled universe
Who hums us from our s~hells, into the open
Expanse, expanding out, into another
And welcome — fully welcome — and remembered
Here, in this world, awaiting
But a single door, and a glowing knob ~
Turn, and Open, and
Walk Through what is before you

Cybele! Extra-ordinary, as always. I am reminded of the wonderful sci-fi / fantasy novel, _The Saint of Bright Doors"-- https://www.amazon.com/Saint-Bright-Doors-Vajra-Chandrasekera/dp/1250847389
"Hand in hand with the insensible image, the pre~sense
Of that which guides us"..