Wednesday, August 09, 2017

lunar reflections

for some reason, on sunday night, when i'd 'woken up' for the day and was washing my hands by the sink, i actually saw a reflection of a bright full moon by the window sill. it was too small for me to photograph, but my playground's trees usually block the view.

that was a first, and i was reminded of it when seeing news of monday's eclipse on tv (which i'd missed).

tonight started out full of fear, but thankfully ends at rest.

for some reason, i felt like playing newsboys' entertaining angels to calm me down (back before they fired their only 'real' band member in there, also known as john james, and lied about why they did so). happened to be from a 2006-2007 playlist i'd extracted from my old mp3 player.

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
    I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
    Of my own mind; and in the midst of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.

Up vistaed hopes I sped;
    And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
    From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.

But with unhurrying chase, And unperturbed pace,
    Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat - and a Voice beat;
    More instant than the Feet -
All things betray thee, who betrayest Me'.

I pleaded, outlaw-wise,
    By many a hearted casement, curtained red,
Trellised with intertwining charities;
(For, though I knew His love Who followed,
    Yet was I sore adread
Lest, having Him, I must have naught beside.)

But, if one little casement parted wide,
    The gust of His approach would clash it to:
Fear wist not to evade, as Love wist to pursue.

Across the margent of the world I fled,
    And troubled the gold gateway of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clanged bars;
    Fretted to dulcet jars
And silvern chatter the pale ports o' the moon.

I said to Dawn: Be sudden - to Eve: Be soon;
    With thy young skiey blossom heap me over
From this tremendous Lover -
    Float thy vague veil about me, lest He see!

I tempted all His servitors, but to find
    My own betrayal in their constancy,
In faith to Him their fickleness to me,
    Their traitorous trueness, and their loyal deceit.
To all swift things for swiftness did I sue;
    Clung to the whistling mane of every wind.

But whether they swept, smoothly fleet,
    The long savannahs of the blue;
Or, whether, Thunder-driven,
    They clanged his chariot 'thwart a heaven,
Plashy with flying lightnings round the spurn o' their feet:-
    Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.

Still with unhurrying chase,
    And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
    Came on the following Feet,
And a Voice above their beat -
   'Naught shelters thee, who wilt not shelter Me.'

I sought not more after that which I strayed
    In face of man or maid;
But still within the little children's eyes
    Seems something, something that replies,
They at least are for me, surely for me!

I turned me to them very wistfully;
    But just as their young eyes grew sudden fair
With dawning answers there,
    Their angel plucked them from me by the hair.

Come then, ye other children, Nature's - share
    With me (said I) 'your delicate fellowship;
Let me greet you lip to lip,
    Let me twine with you caresses,

Wantoning
    With our Lady-Mother's vagrant tresses,
Banqueting
    With her in her wind-walled palace,
Underneath her azured dais,
    Quaffing, as your taintless way is,
From a chalice
    Lucent-weeping out of the dayspring'.

So it was done:
    I in their delicate fellowship was one -
Drew the bolt of Nature's secrecies.

I knew all the swift importings
    On the wilful face of skies;
I knew how the clouds arise
    Spumed of the wild sea-snortings;

All that's born or dies
    Rose and dropped with; made them shapers
Of mine own moods, or wailful divine;
    With them joyed and was bereaven.

I was heavy with the even,
    When she lit her glimmering tapers
Round the day's dead sanctities.
    I laughed in the morning's eyes.

I triumphed and I saddened with all weather,
    Heaven and I wept together,
And its sweet tears were salt with mortal mine:

Against the red throb of its sunset-heart
    I laid my own to beat,
And share commingling heat;
    But not by that, by that, was eased my human smart.
In vain my tears were wet on Heaven's grey cheek.
 
For ah! we know not what each other says,
    These things and I; in sound I speak -
Their sound is but their stir, they speak by silences.
    Nature, poor stepdame, cannot slake my drouth;

Let her, if she would owe me,
    Drop yon blue bosom-veil of sky, and show me
The breasts of her tenderness:
    Never did any milk of hers once bless my thirsting mouth.

Nigh and nigh draws the chase,
    With unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy;
    And past those noised Feet
A voice comes yet more fleet -
    'Lo! naught contents thee, who content'st not Me.'

Naked I wait Thy love's uplifted stroke!
    My harness piece by piece Thou has hewn from me,
And smitten me to my knee;
    I am defenceless utterly.

I slept, methinks, and woke,
    And, slowly gazing, find me stripped in sleep.
In the rash lustihead of my young powers,
    I shook the pillaring hours
And pulled my life upon me; grimed with smears,
    I stand amidst the dust o' the mounded years -
My mangled youth lies dead beneath the heap.
 
My days have cracked and gone up in smoke,
    Have puffed and burst as sun-starts on a stream.
Yea, faileth now even dream
    The dreamer, and the lute the lutanist;

Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
    I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
    For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed.

Ah! is Thy love indeed
    A weed, albeit an amarinthine weed,
Suffering no flowers except its own to mount?
    Ah! must - Designer infinite! -
Ah! must Thou char the wood ere Thou canst limn with it?

My freshness spent its wavering shower i' the dust;
    And now my heart is as a broken fount,
Wherein tear-drippins stagnate, spilt down ever
    From the dank thoughts that shiver
Upon the sighful branches of my mind.

Such is; what is to be?
    The pulp so bitter, how shall taste the rind?
I dimly guess what Time in mists confounds;

    Yet ever and anon a trumpet sounds
From the hid battlements of Eternity;
    Those shaken mists a space unsettle, then
Round the half-glimpsed turrets slowly wash again.

But not ere him who summoneth
    I first have seen, enwound
With glooming robes purpureal, cypress-crowned;
    His name I know and what his trumpet saith.
 
Whether man's heart or life it be which yields
    Thee harvest, must Thy harvest-fields
Be dunged with rotten death?
    Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit;

That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
    'And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
    Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing!

Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
    Seeing none but I makes much of naught' (He said),
'And human love needs human meriting:
    How hast thou merited -
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?

    Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
    Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee,
Save Me, save only Me?

All which I took from thee I did but take,
    Not for thy harms,
But just that thou might'st seek it in My arms.
    All which thy child's mistake

Fancies as lost, I have stored for thee at home:
    Rise, clasp My hand, and come!'
Halts by me that footfall:
    Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstretched caressingly?

    'Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
    Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me.'

 the last part brought me to tears.