Elves lived here, once,

where today the blanched shells lie

of snails

who have outlived their selves;

Rubies and pearls had they none,
but all the talismans of faith;
and had you but seen them
then eternity was no longer a promise
but a fixed abode, serene, like some great ship
of cedar hewn, sailing silently along silent shores ...

''Not many people have heard
the angels singing at dusk'',
he informed me in his quiet way,
''Some have only heard of them''.

'Was he a hero?

'Was he a villain?

'He was modern

'Madman.

'No he wasn't, was he?

'He was - old- ancient - eternal-- 

Aeneas come from the shades of Avernus

Odyseuss out of Circe's ingle

Dionysus at Naxos

Metamorphosized 

How can I define this passion?
It s tempo and motion?
Its deep laments and pain?
It is something unspoken but felt,
Hidden but not-hidden- ‘’the Open Secret’’ says Rumi-
In the darkness I am lighted by it towards some oracle, some worthy and high
Pilgrimage, to Olympus or Delphi I do come.
My eyes are fixed upon something just beyond this horizon, some grave scene or word that is meant to ring out and grip me, to enthrall and burn to the very bone.