 |
| Brahmanaspati, from The Red Book (Liber Novus) by Carl Gustav Jung. Rubin Museum of Art, New York. |
Once
upon a time there was an old apple tree that grew on the border of
the Byzantine Kingdom near an old virgin forest. Or perhaps it is
more proper to say that in reality this particular apple tree didn’t
grow much anymore, since it was already very old. The year our story
begins there was a rich harvest and many of the apples showed their
red and delicious cheeks to the eye of the observer. But one apple
of this particular tree was more beautiful than all the others, with
smooth and shiny red cheeks, sweet and delicious to eat. The apple
knew this about itself, but didn’t whisper anything about it to
anyone, because it was Byzantine.
It
was autumn. The apples of the old tree reached the peak of their
maturity with red cheeks and after that started to fall one by one
from the branches onto the nearby ground. One apple fell on the
rocks, another into a watery puddle, a third – the most beautiful
one - onto the wet grass. The grass received the most beautiful
apple tenderly, embraced it affectionately, and the most beautiful
apple kept its beautiful colour and shape. Meanwhile two snakes that
had emerged from the shadowy depths of the virgin forest wriggled on
the wet grass.
The
snakes noticed the falling of the most beautiful apple and each
immediately thought, “I wish to bite that apple.” One snake said
to the other, “Move from my path, because I wish to wriggle there
first.” The other snake replied, “No, I wish to wriggle there
first. So move away from my path!” The snakes argued and hissed.
The most beautiful apple overheard, but didn’t whisper anything
about it, because it was Byzantine.
While
the snakes argued neither noticed that the prince of magic himself,
the mystical fairy king Oberon, had at that very moment arrived in an
invisible disguise. Oberon snapped his noble fingers and suddenly
supreme magic was done! In the blink of an eye the most beautiful
apple was transformed into the most beautiful deer of the forest,
which strode quickly towards the noble trees of the virgin forest.
Oberon snapped his noble fingers again and suddenly supreme magic was
done a second time! The snakes were transformed to hunters who hunted
the most beautiful deer with bows and arrows.
In
the blink of an eye the deer was at the border of the noble trees of
the virgin forest, where it stopped to drink fresh water from a
bright stream. The hunters noticed and knew this was their moment.
They aimed at the deer with their bows and arrows. One hunter said to
the other: “Move away form my aiming-direction, dear brother! I’m
about to shoot that deer with my bow and arrow!” The other hunter
replied, “No! It’s you who should move away from my
shooting-direction! I’m the one who’s about to shoot that deer!”
After
the hunters argued a while, they launched a pair of arrows towards
the most beautiful deer of the virgin forest. The arrows flew fast
through the air, one coming from the left side and the other from the
right . The first arrow hit the side of the most beautiful deer of
the forest. The second arrow sailed over the deer without hitting it.
“I hit the target, the deer is mine!” shouted the first hunter
triumphantly. “No! I’m the one who hit the target, therefore the
deer is mine!,” shouted the second. The hunters couldn’t stand
one other any more and so they grabbed hold of each other and began
to wrestle.
While
they wrestled the fairy king Oberon snapped his noble fingers again
and look - supreme magic was done a third time! The most beautiful
deer transformed into a most beautiful maiden. Even though the
maiden was bleeding from the wound of the arrow, she turned back with
slight smile - as a true princess would smile. When the hunters saw
this they both thought: “The most beautiful eyes in the world! More
beautiful than any jewels! I wish to have this maiden as my wedded
wife!” But in the blink of an eye the maiden disappeared into the
shadows of the noble trees of the virgin forest.
The
hunters decided to pursue the maiden, chasing her in the shadows of
the noble trees of the virgin forest. Before they set out after her
each took a young branch of the old apple tree, because they had been
taught that it would bring good luck in the chase. For the first ten
miles the hunters pushed each other towards either side of the forest
path as they chased side by side after her, but somehow they managed
to continue their trip. The hunters managed to trace the maiden’s
path by keeping their eyes on the drops of blood that had fallen on
the ground from the wound. Finally the hunters came to a crossroads
where there were no drops of blood on the ground. At the crossroads
the path separated into two.
“You
may go to the left from here, my brother, and I shall go to the
right,” said one hunter to the other. The second noticed the
broken stems of ferns further along the rightward path. “Let’s do
so, my brother,.” he said to the first hunter, who himself saw the
broken stems of ferns on the path to the left. And so the hunters
parted at the crossroads and went on separate paths. Both hunters
kept in mind the eyes of the maiden, which each considered to be the
most beautiful eyes in the world.
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Stone carving detail on a gate pier at the Natural History Museum: Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, London, England. |
The
Knight
The
hunter who chose to go to the right from the crossroads, ended up
after a ten kilometres walk at a sandy cartroad outside the virgin
forest. There were many travellers on carts and horses on the road.
One of them said to the hunter: “Would you like a ride to the
city?” The hunter, who now found himself to be one of the
travellers on the cartroad, answered : “Yeah, sure. “ So the
hunter climbed up onto the cart and accompanied the rider. Soon they
started a conversation.
-So
tell me, O rider, what kind of city is this to which we are heading?,
asked the hunter.
-There
is a large population in this city and the people speak various
languages, answered the rider.
-Is
it a rich city or a poor one?, asked
the hunter.
-It
is both: There are many rich people, but even more poor.
-What
else can you tell me about this city?,
asked the hunter.
-It
is the capital city of the Kingdom.
-And
which kingdom is that?
-The
Kingdom of Byzantium.
-What
is the name of this city?
-Constantinople.
-And
who is the king?
-There
is no king in this kingdom, answered
the rider.
-How
is that?, asked the hunter.
The
rider told the hunter about the present situation. About two weeks
ago the old king of the Byzantine Kingdom had gone to fight the
fierce, notorious, fire-spewing, and terrible dragon. The dragon
lived in an old mill about thirty kilometres west of Constantinople.
The people of the Byzantine Kingdom were very fearful of this
neighbourhood. No human being dared to live there because of the
dragon. Thus it had been in the Byzantine Kingdom for the past
thousand years. The rider told the hunter that the dragon had taken
the king prisoner and by now had maybe also eaten the king.
-Has
this dragon previously taken human beings hostage and eaten them?,
asked the hunter.
-There
are no known cases that I can remember, but this neighbourhood has
been avoided by men and women for a very long time because of fear of
the dragon, answered the rider.
-Where
exactly does this terrible dragon live?
-About
thirty kilometres west of the capital city of Constantinople,
answered the rider.
After
this remark both men fell silent.
The
cart finally arrived in Constantinople, the capital city of the
Byzantine Kingdom, and the hunter dismounted and thanked the rider
for the ride. There were lots of people on the streets mourning and
grieving the passing away of the king and the miserable state of the
Byzantine Kingdom. The hunter headed straight to the royal palace of
the king and volunteered to finish off the much-feared and notorious
dragon. The highest general of the army of the Byzantine Kingdom
accepted the hunter as fit for active military service. And so the
hunter was provided with an iron suit of armour, an iron shield, an
iron sword – and a warning:
-This
is a terrible dragon, which didn’t hesitate to attack and eat the
king of our kingdom, the highest
general told the hunter.
-I
will remember your warning, General,
said the knight.
The
hunter – who was now transformed into a knight with iron armour,
shield and sword – began walking west from Constantinople, the
capital city of the Byzantine Kingdom. After about ten kilometres on
the deserted road, the knight came to a crossroads where he met an
old, poor beggar man who wore a wornout rag. -Greetings
to you!, said the knight.
-Greetings
to you also, answered the old beggar
man, adding, Do you have any charity
alms for me, O Knight?
The
Knight knew that it was unchivalrous not to give alms to the poor so
he looked to see if he had anything to give to the old beggar man.
He realized that he didn’t have anything besides the young branch
of the old apple tree, the iron armour, iron shield, and iron sword.
The knight pondered that he could not give the branch of the apple
tree, so he decided to give away the iron armour. So he said to the
old beggar man:
-Take
my iron armour to the marketplace in the city and sell it there. This
way you will have good money - use it wisely.
The
old beggar man thanked the knight and left for the city.
After
walking a second ten kilometres on the deserted road the knight
arrived at a second crossroads. Here stood an old beggar woman
dressed in an old, worn out rag. The knight greeted her politely and
she greeted him in return. After this the old beggar woman asked for
charity alms. Again, the knight knew that it was unchivalrous not to
give alms to the poor and so he looked again to see if he had
something to give. The knight pondered and considered that he could
not give the branch of the apple tree. So he decided to give to the
old beggar woman his iron shield. And so he said :
-Take
my iron shield to the marketplace of the city and sell it there. This
way you will have good money - use it wisely.
The
old beggar woman thanked the knight and then left for city.
After
walking a third ten kilometres on the deserted road the knight
arrived at a third crossroads, which was very close to the mill of
the dragon. Here he met a young beggar boy who wore a worn out rag
and greeted him. The young beggar boy greeted him in turn and then
asked for alms. The knight pondered once again, considered that had
could not give the branch of the apple tree and so decided to give
his iron sword as alms. The knight said to the boy:
-Take
my iron sword to the marketplace of the city and sell it there. This
way you will have good money - use it wisely.
The
young beggar boy thanked the knight for the iron sword and gave the
knight a package of red-hot lozenges, saying, “These will help you
in your task.“
The
knight continued on his journey. He did not turn to look back, but if
he had done so, he would have seen that the beggar boy was no longer
in the crossroads, but there was the mystical Oberon, the king of
magic himself, instead. As he walked closer and closer to the mill
of the dragon the knight didn’t fall into despair because of the
difficult situation into which he had put himself, but pondered the
words of the young beggar boy instead. How could he now conquer the
fierce dragon, when he had no iron armour and no iron shield and no
iron sword?
Finally
the knight arrived outside the dragon’s mill. Since smoke rose from
the open window the knight concluded that the fire-spewing dragon was
inside. After a moment dedicated to thinking, the knight collected
his courage and raised his voice to shout,
-O
Dragon! Can you hear me?” Within the next blink of an eye the
fierce, fire-spewing and notorious dragon stood in the doorway of
the mill with its fierce appearance, watching the knight with huge
eyes that shone like firebrands, breathing with a heavy rattle, and
emitting smoke and flames from its nostrils.
-Stop
your burning with fire, O honourable dragon,
said the knight to the dragon.
-I
have not came here to fight with you, but wish to be your trusted
friend instead. So, here, take a package of red-hot lozenges as a
token of my friendship, continued the
knight, offering the package of lozenges to the dragon.
Next
came a moment of tense silence. The dragon stared at the knight
with its huge eyes which were like millstones. Then it said to the
knight:
-Thank
you, O honourable knight. I welcome your friendship with great
delight, because I haven’t had a friend in centuries after my
parents deserted me about thousand years ago. Everybody is afraid of
me in this neighbourhood and avoids me, which causes me great sorrow.
I am a very lonely person.
The
dragon took the package of red-hot lozenges in its paws and gulped
all of the contents into its huge mouth which was burning with flames
and smoke. After swallowing the lozenges the dragon burped loudly.
After this the knight continued:
-I
want to be your friend, but nevertheless must ask you: Why have you
taken the king himself of the Byzantine Kingdom as your hostage, and
do you happen also to have eaten him?
-No,
not really, said the dragon., I
have not eaten him and I haven’t taken him hostage. In reality I
am a peace-loving dragon and eating human beings or taking them as
hostages just doesn’t fit with my life values. But nevertheless I
know the fate of the old king of Byzantine Kingdom.”
-So
tell me about it, my friend, said the
knight to the dragon.
So
the dragon told the knight that the old king had came to the dragon’s
mill one late evening in autumn and had suggested a plot: He wished
to frame himself as dead, having died in heroic battle against the
dragon. The old king told the dragon the reason why he wished
himself framed as dead:: The king had lately grown tired of secular
nature of his post as a king and tired of the myriad of secular
worries that came with this post. He had started to yearn for the
peaceful life in prayer of a Christian monk. The king said that if
the dragon agreed to take part in this plot, he promised to pray for
the dragon in the monastery. So, the dragon agreed.
-The
old king only wanted to make peace with the God Almighty and die
wearing the cowl of a monk, that’s about all there is to it,
said the dragon, finishing his story.
-All
right. I believe you, O dragon, said
the knight, So, tell me: would you now
like to take part in another kind of plot, if the reward would be
gaining lots of new friends?”
-Tell
me about it, O Knight!, said the
dragon, much delighted.
And
so it happened that the knight returned to the city and told everyone
there that he had domesticated the fierce, fire-spewing dragon. The
inhabitants of the city were much astonished by this news and decided
unanimously to choose the knight as the new king to replace the old
king,, who was alleged dead. The dragon started to work as a miller
in his mill and because of this this new lifestyle gained a lot of
new friends, because many people in the Byzantine Kingdom started to
visit the dragon’s mill carrying grain so that it would be ground
as flour there. They took the flour back to the city, sold it in the
open market place, and finally baked it as bread in the homes.
The
knight, who was now the king of the Byzantine Kingdom, was very wise
in all of his actions as a ruler. There was still a gap between the
rich and the poor in the kingdom, but the new king remembered how he
had become the ruler. The king lived in the royal palace in a modest
way, eating modest bread, tightening his belt, and wearing worn out
old rags. He wished to donate all of his fortune to the poor of the
Byzantine Kingdom as alms to the hospitals and the schools and the
orphanages and because of this the new king was very much loved in
his kingdom.
The
new king planted the young branch of the old apple tree in the garden
of his royal palace. Over the years and decades the branch grew and
became a large apple tree, which gave good harvest. This particular
apple tree had a peculiar feature. Every year on the very same date
in autumn the trunk of the apple tree began to bleed drops of blood.
Some people in the Byzantine Kingdom sensed that perhaps these drops
of blood reminded the king of some sweet memory in the past, but no
one knew the content of this specific memory. Perhaps some kind of
an inkling of this memory can be found from one old song, which one
of the maidservants of the castle often times used to sing while
scrubbing the floors. Every time as the king heard this song, he
seemed to be emotionally very much moved even to tears. Each an every
one can meditate deep within the inner meanings of the lyrics of this
old song.
love
is a tree mystical
i
stand in the shadow
by
its side
its
fruits grow fast
in
my eyes
in night time
together
with daytime
spring
time, summer time
autumn
time
and
even in the winter time
in
all the colours of the rainbow
and
i grow myself too while watching it
to
each person this tree has something to offer
to
each one with the way pleases each one
to
whom the suffering
this
one shall have the suffering
to
whom the passion
that
one shall have the passion
to
whom the tears
this
one shall have the tears
to
whom the kisses
that
one shall have the kisses
to
whom the miracles
this
one shall have the miracles
to
whom the nails
t
h a t o n e s h a l l h a v e t h e n a i l s
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Isis as a Uraeus Serpent (left) and Serapis or Osiris as agathe tyche agathos daimon (right).
The griffin between them is the goddess Nemesis. Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, Cairo. |
The
Troubadour
The
hunter who chose to go right from the crossroads ended up deeper and
deeper in the depths of the virgin forest. He wandered in the
forest for days, weeks, months, and finally years. During these
years he obtained his food from the virgin forest and slept at night
under the trees. He made a flute from the young branch of the old
apple tree and played it as he wandered. This flute had a peculiar
feature: as the evening cooled down the flute began to play on its
own a certain melancholic, languishing melody full of desire. Every
time the hunter heard this melody, it brought back to him the sweet
memory of the maiden wounded by the arrow.
As
the years passed the hunter realized that fairies moved about and
lived in the depths of the virgin forest, which was now his home
also. Soon he started to converse with them. Finally he became
friends with the fairies and learned the “bird language” they
spoke and got to know their habits. The fairies taught the hunter
various songs, dances and games. The hunter shared his booty with
the fairies and played the flute for them. In those years the
hunter and the fairies often spent time together with great delight.
Soon the hunter also started to write poems in the virgin forest,
writing his poems in both the language of humans and the language of
fairies. Sometimes his poems dealt with erotic fantasy and desire,
such as, for example, this poem of his:
dream
and reality are mixed
when
i
touch you in the dark
carefully
like
a deer
of
the forest
refreshes
itself
from
water of the stream of the virgin forest
carefully
like a butterfly
who
skims
with
its
wings
the pollen
of
a flower
and
our memories are united
our
hearts sing a
song together
and
between
us
happens
what
happened in the fairy tale
there
grows wings of angels between our lips
there
grows
a
bridge
with
scent
of
roses
between
our hands
there grows
a secret garden
between
our
souls
there grows
the first fruits of love between our loins
The
hunter wrote many of his poems in the cool moments of the evening
while the flute played its melancholic, languishing melody. In the
years the hunter lived in the virgin forest he had learned a great
number of songs and dances and games of the fairies. After the
hunter had lived in the virgin forest for ten years he ended up at
the edge of the virgin forest, at a cartroad which led to a nearby
town. When the hunter found this cartroad he decided to leave the
virgin forest and search for new experiences in his life. In town
the hunter met people who asked him to play his flute. He started
to play and realized that in this way he could bring joy to the life
of many of his fellow human beings, who had many sorrows in their
lives.
The
hunter became a wandering troubadour who travelled from city to city,
town to town, and county to county and as he journeyed played his
flute and sang to the common people in the
Byzantine Kingdom.
Occasionally he also wrote poems which he recited in front of the
people when asked to do so. Because of his
poems and songs the troubadour soon became very much loved and
cherished by the men and women of
the Byzantine Kingdom,
yet deep within he
always preferred to remain faithful
for his first
love.
During
his travels the troubadouor also started to stúdy the New Testament,
since after one of his concerts one really pretty yet
also rather mysterious lady came to him and
gave this book for him and recommended it for
him to read. The
mysterious lady refused to tell him her real
name, but she revealed that her family
roots “were in far East, where the Lord
God once planted the lovely Garden of Eden”.
Soon
the troubadour
realized that he was deeply touched by the New Testament writings. He
felt special closeness particularly with the writings of John the
Theologian. These verses in the First
Letter by John the Teologian were among his
favourites:
Beloved,
let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has
been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not
know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made
manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so
that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have
loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the
propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also
ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; if we love one
another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.
The
message of love in the New Testament made an enormous, even pivotal
impact in the
heart ot the troubadour. Together with the Catholic Letters of St.
John also the Gospel of John became as particularly dear to the
troubadour. The troubadour was deeply impressed also by the
Apocalypse of St. John, which mysterious expressions he often times
liked to ponder after sunset in his moments of prayer and mediatation
just before falling into sleep.
As
the troubadour journeyed deeper and deeper in the spiritual meanings
of the New Testament writings, these meanings
started to influence
also his own
creative writings. He soon felt deep within that Christ Jesus was his
close friend and companion in his travels, and to exalt
this friendship,
which spiritual
mysteries he cherished
deep within, he
wrote for example this poem:
there is a rose
pale
as snow
secretly
concealed
in the most secret
room
of my soul
this
rose has been
baptized
with blood
of
the redeemer
the
name
of
the rose
is
prayer
and it moves
mountains
Finally
the wandering troubadour ended up in the kingdom of Persia, where
little by little he learned
also the Persian
language. In the years the troubadour spent in the Kingdom of
Persia, he wore a simple linen tunic and lived a poor and simple life
just like the holy men of Persia, the Sufis. The troubadour rejoiced
when people around him were rejoicing, grieved when people around him
were grieving, and in his time there he loved the life of the poor
and simple common people.
While
living there in the Kingdom of Persia he heard that this kingdom had
an exceptionally beautiful queen, whose eyes were said to be “more
beautiful than any jewels” and who was rumoured to know the secret
language of the fairies. It was also said that the queen loved roses
more than anything else. All this caught the interest of the
troubadour. He decided to go to meet the queen in the royal palace
in the capital city of Persia, Persepolis. He hoped that the queen
would turn out to be the same maiden for whom he had searched for
years now, that is, the lady who had been wounded by the arrow years
ago. At the palace the king of the Kingdom of Persia greeted the
troubadour in a friendly way. The king had heard of the troubadour’s
musical talent. The king asked the troubadour to play and sing at a
great party which was to be held at the royal palace the very next
day.
It
was a most beautiful spring. The birds sang joyously and the apple
trees had begun to bloom. During the cool moments of the evening the
flute played its melancholic and languishing melody. The troubadour,
who had been given the key to a guest room in the royal palace, saw
from his window how the full moon cast light on the palace garden,
and that a single white rose had miraculously started to bloom even
though it was only very early spring. The troubadour also observed a
very beautiful lady pick the single white rose in the moonlight. He
concluded that she must be the queen of Persia since many courtly
ladies of the bedchambers followed her. The troubadour heard a
nightingale sing, and at that moment decided to write a poem for the
queen.
The
next evening the king and the queen attended the party together with
the courtly people. The queen wore a veil which hid her face,
revealing only her eyes. The troubadour was asked to perform. He
rose from from his seat and stood before everyone. Then he met the
eyes of the queen. By this time the troubadour saw that these eyes
were truly more beautiful than any jewels, that they were like those
of the maiden he had searched for all these years. The queen’s
eyes were the same colour as the eyes of the lady who had been
wounded by the arrow years ago. The troubadour sang and played for
the courtly people of the Byzantine Kingdom. Afterwards he recited
in front of all the people, in the language of fairies, a poem he had
written the previous evening.
Nightingale's
song for the rose
Do you
not fear
that i might
fall in
love
with you the beautiful stranger
You
the
forbidden
fruit
you
the
untouched
rose
who wondrously
are posed
in front
of me
on your bed
fragile and naked
bare and
blossoming full of desire need and wanting
do
you not fear that i might want to touch you in this enchanted night with moonlight like this when your petals are dropping damp
and dreams
or are you maybe just passing by
Y o u
look only one look with smiles of beauty and then you
continue
your journey and leave for me only thorns
Y
o u
who silently shed
the twinkling of the stars to
my wings
Y o u
who drop your tears
of
solitude in this broken night
Y o u
who
secretly slip
your silky beauty into my heart
Y
o u
who softly touch
my heart like a blow of wind
Y o u
who full of glow
of desire
press close against my heart
This
poem touched the heart of the queen so deeply that she burst into
tears when she heard it. Thunderstruck, the king of Persia commanded
his soldiers to throw the troubadour in jail. The troubadour learned
that he was accused of wooing the queen of Persia, which was as
serious a crime as treason in the kingdom of Persia, and for which
there was only one possible punishment: the death penalty. Later
that night the queen came secretly to see the troubadour in the jail
house.
-Do
you love me?, asked the queen.
-I
love the lady with the arrow wound in her side. Show me your side so
that I can be sure, said the
troubadour.
The
queen showed her side for the troubadour and the troubadour saw that
it was smooth and beautiful, there was no sign of a scar made by the
arrow. The troubadour concluded that he had been mistaken: the
queen was not the same lady as the one for whom he was searching.
The troubadour sighed deeply from frustration and after this the
queen of the kingdom of Persia left him alone. The troubadour had
his flute in the jail and the flute started once again to play that
melancholic and languishing melody. Tears came to the troubadour’s
eyes because he was far from his beloved and because his life could
soon be put to an end.
All
that night the troubadour remained awake, inspired to write poems.
As dawn rose he started to play his flute. Doves lit on the
windowsill of his jail cell to listen to his playing. When the
concert ended, the doves left. Soon after there a single dove white
as snow lit on the windowsill. The troubadour saw that a red silk
ribbon hung around its neck and that hanging from the ribbon was a
golden key. The troubadour took the key from the neck of the white
dove and used it to try the door of his cell in the jail house. The
key fit the lock and the troubadour thus escaped from the jailhouse
and avoided the death penalty.
The
troubadour wandered back along the same road on which he had walked
to the kingdom of Persia. The journey lasted days, weeks, months,
and finally years. At last the troubadour ended up at the edge of
the same virgin forest which he had left years ago. In the forest
the fairies welcomed the troubadour with delight and held a great
welcoming party for him. The mystical fairy king, Oberon, the King
of the Magic, was also invited to the party together with his spouse,
Titania, the queen of fairies.
During
the party the troubadour agreed to recite his poems. Before reciting
one of them he said it was one he had written in prison, and that it
told of eternal desire and love that had not yet been realized, but
which perhaps one day would be fulfilled. “Then
it’s more real than anything else, but now it’s only fantasy
compared to the reality.” After
these words the troubadour recited his poem.
When
the white blooms of apple trees are dreaming
I
didn’t
know
it before
but
now my eyes
are
opened
this
spring
when
the white
blooms
of
apple trees
are
dreaming
all
the fierce,
burning
letters
of
the Bible
spoke
about ¨
the
beauty
of
your eyes
all
the psalms
which
i opened
in
the slow moments
of
the night
tender
as silk
all
the
promises
of
the living God
pierced
by sunbeam
all
the words
spoken
by tears
glorified
in the night
and
their meaning
which
i searched in my heart
in
the middle of pain and anxiety
in
this uneven neighbourhood
which
is called the world
in
the moments of both joy and grief
when
fortune and misfortune were changing
all
the spiritual canticles full of tears
all
the verses of the song of songs
all
the brightness of the new heaven and new earth
all
the lyrical moments of creation
of
the living God
the
new jerusalem
the
garden of tears
adam
and eve before the fall
all
this in one handfull
of
smiles of the scent
of
your locks
sang
even in one
fiber
of your hair
sweeter
than
anything
that
i had
experienced
ever
before
This
poem touched the heart of Titania, the queen of the fairies, so
deeply that she shed tears, while at the same time Oberon, the king
of the fairies, smiled mysteriously and clapped his hands.
The
Maiden
But
what became of the maiden who was wounded by the arrow? What was her
fate? Did she secretly in her heart choose to surrender to either one
of the hunters that chased her? Or maybe there was a third way in the
crossroads of the virgin forest and the maiden had chosen this third
way? And maybe this way the maiden had disappeared once and for all,
forever. And maybe the mystical fairy king Oberon knew but never
told about it to anyone.
