Why not post? This was written at the age of 24 when I got up one
Sunday morning and decided that I would write a poem solving everything,
as young men do. It is an allegory of the path through life. It may
be rubbish after all but you only get one chance in life to do this
so I took it.



Triad: The Magicians


I

We came from the beginning we
Striding hand in hand
Over the green friendly lands
Pausing in the silent vision of the night
To chart courses and name wonders
And question
Before yoking the stinking oxen to the wagons
Trudging onwards toward the distant hills
We made our way
Joyfully

Lying on our backs in the sand
Toes amusing themselves in the water's splash
The great heat of the Lifegiver
Swept through us
And we dared not look His face
But kept careful watch     secretly
Timing His movements and those of His minions
That we might know His power
To usurp Him
One day

And the Mother was angry and distrustful
At our ignorance of Her constancy
As we stripped Her of the lesser jewels
Returning Her temples to the black depths
And leaving Her only with that
Which could not be taken away
Her presence in the night
But we watched Her
Carefully

And our magicians became learned in all ways
Pursuing secrets where they found them
And they played their toys
In our palaces our homes our hovels
In bringing forth the mysteries
And letting all taste and know
That we were not as inferior to these deities
As our prophets had instructed us
In their wisdom
Unwisely

And stealthily     most cunningly wrought
We constructed our god
Of equations and reactions and repulsions
We ordered all that was to be ordered
And balancing chance and clockwork
We made the mysteries
We created the perfections of numbers
The affirmation of the dualities
Our uniqueness in the substance
Although the edges perhaps disturbed us
For here the tempos
Frayed

And for our God we built most marvellous works
Structure upon structure
As our society was bent to His image
And complexities and absurdities abounded
As from His simple tools
We aggrandised ourselves and strutted the air
Relishing our condition
And He watched playfully
Leading on our theoreticians
Encouragingly

And we were so arrogant and assured
That we had no need of Him
And banished Him
We ourselves were the masters of all
For had We not constructed him in our image
And were not Our magicians unsurpassed
In their construction of fresh powers
As they pressed on furious
To the ultimate revelation
Of Our Godhood
Incarnate

And god fled from his temples fearfully
For his closest secrets were at risk
And We hounded him and hunted him
Deep into the psyche     Deep into the cosmos
For all was Order
And his greatest power shown
As the toss of a coin
So he returned to his dethroned Mother
For consolation
Manfully

She was sitting beneath a bush
Scratching herself and drawing patterns in the earth
She looked up when she saw god coming
And made room for him
And they looked up at the sky and laughed
For the Moon and the Sun were both visible
And they looked at each other
Amused for they saw love again
He reached out for her
And took her
Tenderly

And they writhed and twisted
As the heat thrashed through them
Their naked bodies
Coarse against the earth and cold against the sky
Broke gushing warmth and oneness
And they were free
And their beings mingled
As they knew each other
And were each other
Forever

And he rose and held out his hand
And she shyly first came to him
Together they looked at the broad green country
As the warm sun blessed them
And the moon poised her wink
On the rim of the world     watching
Hand in hand they walked into the morning
Laughing carefree joined
And they had no time
For looking about them
Questioning


II

Man was alone in His Universe
He had infiltrated and expelled all rivals
His was the future
He alone bore the responsibilities
And throughout His world
Order would rise     ignorance would crumble
The structure of the millenium was decreed
And His servants would do their bidding
Although functions may adjust
The underlying structure is eternal
He said

Each cadaver its place in society
Each intellect its chosen target
Great institutions     the great foundations
Insidious bureaucracy     the wealth of nations
All were appointed to their special niche
For the purposes of happiness
Unity democracy anarchistic variety
The artistic mentality
Fostered and underwritten
To assure life's cultivation
Supposedly

A sham     a facade     most delicately poised
That vast interlinkage     progressive mankind
For many secrets were left still unfound
We doubt His capacity
To solve in this Time
The roots of Sacred Laws
The consistency of Deductions
The veil of Reality
Knowing how     Yes
But where the daring Why
Unspoken

Perhaps He turned inwards     avoiding questions
Reconstructing the structured
Instructing the ill advised
For the perfection of Utopian bliss
Creating a plastic euphoric Paradise
Where each their own God
Circling through the strata
Of labelled regiments of thought
Snatching at ecstatic crumbs
From some unwary exposer
Ungiving

Decrying His birth right
His mortal nature     His questing
Bowed down by the backbreaker
The fat slug on His shoulder
He must choose His moments for breathing
And for manipulating
The creaking machinery
That gave Him mastery over the unknowable
And the solid rock base for pursuing
Some outward dream
Perhaps?

Are You for the burning of books
The hewing down of pyramids
The unleashing of the sun's warmth?
Or to infiltrate these cold mechanics
Who have no purpose or existence
And to use their tools secretly
To distract them by homespun fables
Of the questions unanswered
And of Your rivals in the Cosmos
Do You want to be alone
Forever


III

The fading years of the Christ child
Close to Pluto
Ever the magician's Saviour
A silver fish hangs in the sky
Alive alert bristling with activity
Of men machines minds
Human and inhuman
Linked twined enraptured
Waiting
Uncomprehending
For the Homecoming
The golden Mothership and her four black sons
Soon to float from the depths of Space
Into the warm welcoming grasp of the Sun
The return     the first homecoming
The release of our one bloodseed
Floodtime
Our time...

for Rilke