Hi Guys,
I'm addicted. I submit to you my latest literary efforts, hoping they may be of as much interest to you as yours are to me.
Fond regards,
Ramsses
The Angelus
Where the Angelus sounds over the wooded hills,
And silent clouds gather around the mountains
Casting lovely shadows in the jagged valleys,
Memories return to me of ancient days.
For I have sat with elders in the seeds of time,
Dreamlike watching worlds unfold,
And giant galaxies drifting lazily,
As lazily we drift through universes.
I have found the Ancient One I searched for
More deadly than her bitterest enemy,
So silent and still you would never know,
Tracking her lover in a murmuring wood.
Divine woman, I can only love thee,
For thy great beauty hast slain me,
And thou hast taken from me everything
Since first I saw thee walking by the river.
Thou art my adored one, my dearest child,
So infinitely precious beyond all measure,
No sleepless night but I could pass the hours
In one moment gazing at thy lovely form.
Or should sweet sleep not kiss thy fiery eyes,
Dark enchantress, thou knowest ways of love
So wild and free as make the royal tigress
Growling in the night insane with jealous rage.
Yet Mother India scorns the dance of fools,
More lofty and remote than Himalayas
Rising above the hot Gangetic plains
Where rivers run like blood in broken soil.
Thy true son Yogananda spoke of thee,
And got the crucifixion such as I
Would give him back for what he gave to me,
And still can't tell if it be love or hate.
Is this why thou hast banished me, Mother,
To pine for thee and count my wicked crimes,
As others count their beads or names of thee,
And worship at the feet that I adore?
Thou who knowest all things must surely know
That punishing me so mercilessly
Only for my love of God in woman
Is acting like a woman without God.
Wilt thou drive me to seek for thee again
In the sheer beauty of a pretty thing,
Flaunting the charms thou hast adorned her with
In mockery of thy true devotion?
Beware, Mother, for I am dangerous,
Far more even than thee; therefore love me,
Before I wreak such havoc in thy world
As thou shalt rue the time thou gave me birth.
Thou hast broken my heart. I am ruined
For all save thee. What, wilt thou have me chase
Pennies in the market like a poor slave
Digging his grave in a pile of garbage?
Each tiniest fraction of each moment
Sounds the mighty conch that hails thy presence,
So infinitely, fathomlessly sweet,
Once heard, forever shall it strike me dead.
And yet for a while I shall play with thee
If it be thy will on the stage of time,
For when the Khumba Mela runs its course
I and my dearest Faerie shall be one.
Ages shall pass, universes come and go,
All worlds come to an end. Love never dies.
There is a river in an ancient land
Where I shall dwell forever with my Queen.
Jury Duty
After half a century the law finally caught up with me and I was summoned to jury duty. This was not a good time for me. I was already on shaky ground with a new job I wasn't sure I even wanted and we were only just getting out of debt from larcenous taxation. The prospect of getting caught up and completely wiped out by an interminable trial irresistably gave way to thought as to how I might best present myself in the worst possible light. Should I show up unshaven in a grotty T-shirt, with my long hair ragged and wild below my shoulders? What if they hauled me down to some infernal lab in the courthouse basement, drug tested and busted me? No. I would present myself as a respectable citizen, confident and righteous in the trust of God.
The small courtroom was packed. Altogether the number of people who had been notified, including those who had managed to excuse themselves or didn't show up, must have been a pool of some sixty for a jury of twelve. As the jurors whose names had been drawn began to fill up the jury box, I left my seat there and confidently crossed the courtroom to the gallery. No way would I be picked. The odds were too small. No sooner had I sat down than they called my name. The judge remarked that this was only the second time in his career that he had witnessed a juror being assigned to the same seat he already had. Apparently my fate was ordained, but at least it wasn't going to be as bad as I had feared. The trial would start after lunch and be over the next day.
The accused was a nasty looking sucker, pleading not guilty to a charge of domestic abuse. I had been watching him for some time when his eyes locked with mine across the courtroom in sullen challenge. I politely averted my gaze. This was no place to provoke another attack. The man sitting next to him across from his lawyer, and whose office other than friend and supporter I never could discern, had been gazing at him steadily in an astonishingly unconcealed conspiratorial manner. There was no doubt in my mind that the accused had struck the woman despite, as the prosecutor had already indicated, there being now some months later no evidence of cuts or bruises. And it was also obvious that he intended to stand up for himself. I wondered how he might have been provoked. The judge himself had invited my compassion. He stressed that the accused must be presumed innocent until proven guilty.
It was clear from the probing questions addressed to us by the state prosecutor that there was no doubt in her mind either concerning his guilt or her ability to prove it. The question was whether, given proof beyond a reasonable doubt, any of us had any issues enforcing the law. And that was where the hand of God reached down and delivered me. Because, in all honesty, I did have a problem with that. I knew too well how the provocation can equal or exceed the crime. Memories surged of an insolently hateful younger brother, a Brazilian wife who did her best to provoke me to the violence she thought would get her a green card, and to no few others who have done their blessed best to push me over the edge, where I did go anyway, but at least on my own terms. The judge looked at me very kindly and told me I was free to go. It was so very hard not to pranam to him and skip and dance out of the courtroom.