PEGASUS by RIGHT (1)
I called him up once, long ago,
(Pegasus I mean)
in boyish zeal and just because I could --
after being told how by the little lady
I helped across a street
that wasn't there (another story).
He looked just like the drawing
in an old book on mythical things --
that is, he looked just as I imagined,
which was OK because I wished
to go to an imagined place --
anywhere but home.
He was mighty big back then
and I could only get mounted, it seemed,
by making a stack of teetery things
I'd left lying around and unattended,
and somehow told of a lack of confidence
and I decided not to go just then.
Perhaps it is time to try again …
PEGUSUS by Right (2)
There is a place that I would go --
a whimsy perhaps or pulsing draw on soul,
Yet I am not sure that mystical wings
of dream steed, here empowered
can fetch me there --
(when you said anywhere
you were not prepared for me)
So I entrance a test spin first,
an appraisal of my worth and readiness
more than gifted flight of Pegasus;
for magick is of believing, most assuredly,
and I must call on knowing.
So I perform the ancient call again --
hands folded as in Kalbadam,
mind searching for the spirit cord
that silver binds to Source and all,
fretted at that hidden spot
'tween third eye and heart pulse …
a single note -- not of earthly scale …
and he comes!
He senses my mischief --
tossing silver head and impatient forehoof,
gossamer mane asweep with stars
and watching faerie eyes …
unable to leave, as is his want,
but bound by the command --
the right that I have claimed.
"and where would we go?
is the whisper on the silent breeze.
PEGASUS by Right (3)
I am sure the steed of light
is used to riders anxious to be
off and gone,
but I settled back against a mossy stone
and played with a sprig of thyme.
"I doubt you have ever been
to where I wish to go," says I;
and gained Pegasus' full attention --
of one eye grey,
the other green,
and quivering nostrils
"and I'm not worried that you can get there,
but …," I trial off.
Of my future flight attendant,
I did not sense any change;
but it seemed that the silence grew heavy
as other, unseen beings hovered near.
I continued unafraid,
"my fear is that you may not return,
it being so beautiful and all,
and I'd be stranded, or delayed;
and me not being immortal like you,
I cannot describe the welling of emotion
that rippled over me, for I (and thee)
cannot mix curiosity, compassion and indignation
in a snort --
of mirth, with echoed laughter --
but also something else beyond and through.
Pegasus offered me friendship,
and everything was answered.
"All I ask," I sent a thought-song;
"Is that you bring this experience to me,
if I ask too much of trust and fancy;
for I would gift this place to you
for evermore --
to rest and enjoy
Pegasus seemed more of a colt
as he settled into the meadow grass
now resplendent with flowers
and bees chanting mantras.
The waving fir tips brought a message,
"as it will be --
everywhere and at all times."
I knelt and whispered in his ear,
"gather then to me
the Vale of Shernai."
PEGASUS by Right (4)
'tis said a horse cannot look straight ahead,
but both eyes did and more,
and I understood a conversation,
nay a conspiritation was afoot;
for all the leaves were atremble
and the fountain frozen
I know not who or what enjoined
to help decide a path or course
to meet this challenge --
those drawn through curiosity …
not of the Vale,
but of how I knew.
The fountain pulsed again,
and echoed in light and chimes --
words formed within my mind,
quivering -- caressing --
a voice more feminine …
yet not a single voice,
nor voice at all.
"we will go as you enthrall,
as Pegasus cannot go alone,
nor thee as known afore.
Long have we waited for permission,
now gifted by thy charge and will …"
I did not know what to make of this,
but sensed this journey quest
might take a span of when,
and closed my eyes in time to see
an unfolding of nether wings --
and I understood that Pegasus
only appeared to glow --
protecting me from the glare
of a portal from which shone …
well that's another story.
I would tell you now what I know
of Shernai ..
that I may prepare.
Pegasus by Right (5)
The Vale of Shernai
i do not know why I am telling of this,
or why you should believe,
for I do not -- believe that is --
but surely know …
and what else am I fore
but to see things of wonder
and share in simple ways?
trouble is -- is not simple,
nor a trouble really --
except that I will fail in the telling,
for I lack the notes to sing the song,
and colors too few,
and reach too short,
and passions but a trace of love.
but, then as now and hurry,
if you do not attend to this story,
nor draw from it worth and mirth,
it is not my spirit that will tremble
in the balance …
so choose! to continue or nay.
WARNING -- to go here is to never return!
All right! I begin.
i found him in a tree --
part of him at any rate and 'him' is but a guess.
he was not 'in the tree'
like kids stealing apples or kisses,
but one with the tree -- sort of --
only his torso was free,
except for one hand of which he had four,
and his lower parts were, well --
still merged of the tree -- naturally.
it seemed a perfect fit,
with no pain or physical rejection,
beyond his wishing to be free, of course --
he asked if i could help a bit,
which perhaps I could,
knowing I probably wouldn't see him
if i were not of the answer,
or a prayer --
perhaps i exist soas to be there,
and did and was.
so, I told him how to free himself,
and in return, since I had not asked
for boon nor pledge nor gift,
he told me a story --
better than this one sure …
the best he had to give.
He told me of
the Vale of Shernai,
and then went off to find a friend,
the reason he had come --
a silver wisp of angel
that might look like a horse to me,
but then he looked like a gnome to me,
and wasn't --
but I am drifting into other stories,
and you already know of such things --
mythical steeds, and angels,
and shape shifters and those who
drift the ether waves ..
so I will tell you of the Vale
which I have never seen,
nor had he except by accident --
'cept his 'where' aim isn't very good
judging by his marriage with a tree.
see, I can get quickly to the point.
no one can go there!
by chance or folly, my friend arrived
a whinkle ahead of his physical shell,
which is good because everything in the Vale
is poisonous and biologically sterile
by the standards of our feeble attention --
and he wisely chose to bounce
instead of discorporate,
but had glimpses enough
to be of it forever …
and now it comes to me --
and I will be of it too,
by the gifted trust of the silver one,
"ap'egal'sis" be known to thee.
Pegasus by Right (6)
My gallant stallion returned --
not that he had actually gone, or ever was --
here I mean, since where I am now
in feeble form and spirit
is not where I was before,
and because of this experience
I am not now what I was then --
but I promised a story, not idle musing …
Pegasus and I were again entranced
in the same proximity and focus of
attention. So there!
The enticing rustle of whisper leaves
was gone -- but not so she,
who was now mounted atop the steed.
You may imagine, if you wish or need,
a warrior maiden with golden hair,
bridleless save twists of braided mane,
singing a melody meant for me alone --
but I saw more of a pulsing thistle down,
blended amber above and within
a silver cloud of shifting form
that resembled perhaps a horse
more than else --
and was only feminine in voice
They were weary, I sensed --
understanding that what was moments
for me and thee and even now
might have been much more of when,
and they actually chose to return yesterday
soas not to encumber me.
The fountain rippled once again
and chimed within my soul --
"ap'egal'sis" cannot do this alone,
nor any but by common join and be,
yet you have allowed this
and other have pledged the quest
that all may perceive the Vale."
I was awash with dancing light,
foreto behold a vision -- nay a plan,
by which the Vale could be known
with goal of shown to me
and bound in future memory.
For no vibration of be --
bound even slightly
to the clutch of physiography,
can survive within the quested Vale
but for a shiver or bold reality --
measure in the dance of quanta.
For this task will serve by choice.
three filled thrice volunteers
to dive as swallows into the seething mists
and catch a blink of grandeur;
returning to breath and heal
and swoop again in joy!
My Pegasus would not take them there,
but would guide and protect their return.
My faerie princess was now an admiral
of forces by my ready count
of 19,683 flights of will and pride,
who would suffer and nearly perish
that a dream would be bound
and promise kept.
Could I have retracted my whimsy
I do not know -- and was not tested,
for this release of the Vale of Shernai
had gained the fond attention
of stars in nova prance
and seeds waiting to be born,
and would not be denied --
Pegasus by Right (7)
"I cannot believe in what you reveal,"
said I in patient musing,
"for there is not yet a witnessing
to sustain what I surely know."
"so that then is the hidden quest,
our champion's dream to unfold,"
she chime-tinkled in mirth and dance.
"all seekers wish to distill
knowing from believing,
and you would strive for something
less and more in yearning."
Then I came to understand
what I had begun by this entrancement --
that to know something of wonder
is without meaning or worth
unless shared with others
that they might believe --
or find a seed of dream.
Pegasus now reclined before me,
expecting more -- waiting,
for he is of a journey
What then, did I know so profoundly?
Simply that a place existed
in divine trusted certainty,
that might be claimed "most beautiful"
of all scenes of comprehension
within the balance of agreement
I did not have to see it to believe,
and no amount of believing
could enhance my soul fed knowledge.
It was my faith that such knowing
could engender awe and mirth in others
that called forth the Pegasus of dreams.
"Then let it be done," I cried;
"but not for me, but all."
The shimmering form of steed and maid
were but shadows against the portal light,
yet had they not protected me
I may have been consumed or drawn in --
I am not sure,
and cannot describe how I chose
to remain --
for in this bold jest I was correct,
and of this flight of Pegasus
I could not return,
and might never have been at all.
"You do not wish to see it then --
this panorama so enticing that
the ether now trembles
with the ripples of your request?"
"It was never for me," I whispered.
"There is one whose dreams you surely know --
the girl next door,
my friend Alicia who laughs at my
attempts to sing to the flowers.
I have tried to make her know of flowers
and many things her blind eyes cannot behold,
and somehow she believes --
Once again and on and in
there were many shapes and forms
prancing just out of sight and wonder,
and I knew then also that of this
Pegasus as a focus of everbeen.
I then spoke of what I had planned
all along -- what Pegasus must have sensed,
but somehow needed for me to invoke
the power of the words.
"When the collage of splendid wonder
is finally painted of the magick points
of vision and sacrifice of Shernai --
pray give it her as is her right --
and pray withhold my name,
for it is her love and trust
that brings us here,
Pegasus by Right(8)
She was seated in a wingback chair,
fitting perhaps as I would learn,
but planned by her to swing her arms
in gesturing and applause
for what she scarcely hid within
of secret joy and expectation.
"Come -- come and sit beside me,"
she giggled in such innocence,
auburn curls and 'die for' lashes
an easy distraction from withered legs
and trailing tubes and prison bed.
She now accepted my presence --
far cry from a soft beginning
of sing along with my whistled tunes
outside her window sill.
Her tightly sealed never eyes
beheld me all too well and kind.
Oh, that I were as gallant and fair
as she would have me by fast will --
I - I who but told fun stories
and pretended to dance with her
in the golden sunbeams
of lost youth.
"I have had a dream," she whispered,
"or it has certainly captured me --
yet not a dream at all -- or vision;
but more of a viewing as on a TV screen
such as you have described.
No, no! More like a waterfall
of ever changing flowers which you love
so well and bring me often
to feel and taste and smell."
Her hands painted pictures of delight
to accentuate in frenetics
that which her halting speech
failed to express in pace
with child's heart and ancient spirit
beyond the ken
of simple men.
And I listened to her tale --
her magic dream revealed …
and will tell you of it best I can.
"There is a world," she murmured,
with shaping hands and hesitation,
as if I might not believe;
but then galloping on past
rills and furrows
of remembered thrills
"Yes," she squealed --
"I understand color now,
and am no longer afraid of lonely --
for I remember every flower,
and gypsy dress swirl,
and sunset you have ever shared.
I must let you see it too --
the world, the place -- the valley."
Pegasus by Right (9)
There is no way to relate this telling,
without you seeing the flying, sculpting hands --
radiant apple cheeks and lily throat
pulsing with laughter above
a foam of bluish lace and folds of scarlet robe.
Alicia's mother and sister stood silent --
caught up in awe and trembling surprise,
though I had told them
that she was to tell us a story
of the color of joy.
I will simply list the factual points --
a description of what and was,
as best interpreted and flavored by my senses;
and let you fill in the emotions
and colors of the dream --
the knowing of Shernai.
It is the only world tossed between two suns such that its shades of light are always changing, caught in perpetual bright gloaming.
These stars are so far distant that their glow has not yet reached our earth.
The planet has five moons, which insure that the world's surface is never at rest, nor the days the same length, nor any atmosphere left.
The Vale is a deep rift in the center of many volcanoes which draw up an ever changing mixture of chemical soup from the planet's core.
These flows merge into six streams, that with the blending produce mixtures, compounds and molecules in endless clashes, explosions and fury.
These merge again just above the Vale into three conjoined sources of pulsing rainbow hued magma and swirling eyes of energy.
Then they fall -- pouring over the stone lip in ribbons thousands of feet high into an angry pool below.
Every twist and wave of seething movement produces a different color, some perhaps never seen on Earth.
As the moons align in different patterns above and on, the ribbons interact in tune -- even braiding and marrying in the void --forming anew chemical bonds and release of energy. As the cataracts strike the pool and rocks below, crystal spires form and shoot upward with shocking speed.
Within seconds, faerie castles build and grow with millions of facets of reflected color dance. Then they exceed the gravity balance between world and moons to collapse and dissolve into jeweled mists to be captured by the waiting moons.
Yes, the heavens there are filled with faerie dust that swirls away to the suns like veils of a dancing goddess, that caress the moons in passing in an endless symphony of creation.
I came to understand the measure
of this place and quest and prayer.
There is in Shernai nothing that is not
of color and motion and creation.
To be there for even a wink of time
would corrode and devour my body
in chemical fury most sure …
but the draw on soul and spirit
would surly shatter the frail bond
of human attention and vibration.
I have seen here on Earth
that which I might entrance as
"the Breath of God" --
but now know that I would not survive
touching the very engine --
"the Heart of God!"
Only on the pallet of an innocent child,
blind to the harsh realities of our world,
can we see …
and I would ask --
when you call forth Pegasus
and are asked to choose a journey --
where else is there to go
but to be a child again?
copyright Sakin'el 2005