HOME | POLITICS | SPORTS | LIFE | SCI/TECH | OPEDS | HELPFUL TIPS
|
Nov. 23, 2005 I am the spirit of the tides that rise in adoration of the Moon, Queen of the Night. Do you see the mellow splendor of Selene on the tossing waves out at sea? I am there in the brine and the foam, with pale luster. I am there is the fresh salty gusts of the maritime wind. I am the eye of Night. Do you hear the barking of the seals, far from the shore? They are my song. They are the bars and the measures of my nocturnal rhapsody. Do you not see the great temple of Night, its violet dome overarching Creation, its stars like candles in the niches. Do you not hear the parliament of owls and the congress of ravens, their wings flapping gently in the heights. Do you not see the great sable cloak of the Antipodes, its folds bejeweled with diamonds and sapphires, there, under the mellow radiance of the globe of Heaven? O Artemis, is the cloak thine? Do you not see the argosy of Night, its masts lost in the mists, its sails bisque under the crescent that smiles in the West? Do you not see yon clouds, like old silver in the inky blackness. Who is the mariner that stands at the helm? Where is his destination? Do you not see the great albatross in the wake of the argosy, nor the petrels that fly in the distance barely to be discerned in the shadows of midnight? What is that distant flash shrouded in cloud? Is that a storm in the offing, the bolts of its lightning occluded by haze? Ot is that the silvern gong of the Moon as she rises of a sudden in the East? And whose are those faces we see round the Moon, like players of cards at a lamp-lit table, intent on their game. What are those cards, emblazoned with the visages of Olympians on high? Are they telling the fortunes of planets and stars, vaticinating with sooth and with truth? All is here in the Book of the Ages, in the Song of Night, a leaf ripped from that volume. Slender, lovely fingers have purloined a single page from that sacred book and delivered it to me, postillion for the Queen of the Night, aloft in her carriage, drawn by the white mares of the Moon. Their hoofbeats mark the hours and the minutes, thundering at midnight and growing fainter and fainter till the cerulean fingers of Dawn tincture the East. The mystic voice transpierces my heart. My ear is awakened by the call of the prophetess, Sekhmet, whose whisperings are as dreams and whose syllables reveal the morrow to them who have understanding and wisdom. All hail, to the Goddess of Night and the Moon. Thine oval face is as lovely as the lilies of Heaven. Thy kiss is the like unto the petals of red floribunda roses. Thy breath is as attar of violets. Show us the way! Teach us the lore of the future! Indite for us now the chronicles of the new age aborning! ------------ About the author: Izmridafia III is the heiress of a former Oceanic kingdom and now resides in Hawaii. Email: izmridafia@hotmail.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
||||||
|
|
|||||||
|
