PART ONE
Beauty-
To some you are the aroma, rippling in the wind
You come from the Alpha, to the righteous or the sinned
You come to the Omega, for sadness to rescind
To some you are the sweet, dancing on the tongue
You come to those who eat, whether old or young
You come to compose a treat in a world unstrung
To some you are the sound, echoing words of cellar-door
You come to astound with a whisper or a roar
You come renowned to a world wanting you more
To some you are the touch of tingling white velvet
You come as a clutch with fingers of bluing gold sunset
You come to touch the long untouched beset
To some you are the sight of light shining through the shade
You come from all the light ever made
You come from the might that will never fade
To some you are the wisdom of mellowing thought
You come from the glorious kingdom forever sought
You come from the only freedom of infinite plot
To some you are a decreer of happiness
And we, to be the seer of gladness
To be freer of sadness,
Are the agreer
To the decreer -
Our due
Our duty
To you
Beauty
I moved toward the fringe
Where sand and jungle met
And each boasted of their power
Their danger their courage
They laughed at one another
And bragged of the tolls they had made
I moved slowly,
Patiently, yes patiently
The numbering years
It took me to learn
The meaning of that word
"But now
It is with me"
I thought
As I came to a small dune
"Patience—
A simple way of life
To give me
A grasp
On mental peace
Patience—
It has taught me through hope
That
Time is the acid that dissolves all problems"
I climbed the last dune
And there mingled the fringe
There stood the lady
White silk in the wind
Silent I stood watching,
Absorbing the moon
As it spilled from her hair
Silent I watched
Watching her watch
Slowly
I moved closer
Until
I stood
But a
short distance away
I scrutinized her being
She had fine features,
A small nose
Delicate lips
Her eyes shone, unusually
And
Through the fluttering white
Her slender figure was easy to discern
"Good evening"
I said
"I am a searcher
And
One from the desert,
I am forever traveling
And therefore know the ways
Of lost trails"
As I spoke
I waited—intent
Curious
Of her reaction
But
She was not startled
Nor did she cry out
Nor run away
In fear
Instead
She stood staring,
Silently
She watched the dunes
Her being seemed a paradox—
Radiating happiness
Yet
Her eyes
Were of a despairing gaze, laughing
"Perhaps
We could talk awhile"
I said—
Still
She was silent
I waited
And finally
With friendliness
I moved closer
"Lady of the fringe"
I asked
"Have you some plight,
And might I help?"
Silence
"Why the fringe?
Why do you stand here
Between
The two extremes of danger—
Jungle and desert?"
I thought-
"Perhaps
She is one
Of an expedition
And
Has become lost
In the night
Or
Perhaps
They are nearby
Camped
And she is merely watching
As the moon rises
Reflecting
Radiance
Upon the mountains
The meadows (further down)
The jungle
And the desert"
Still,
She said nothing
She radiated happiness
And a feeling of peace,
Tranquility
Still
She stood
Watching the desert
Then slowly
She turned her gaze
Toward the mountains;
With moisture reflecting the moon,
Shining
And
From her eye—
A laughing eye
Flowed a graceful tear
She looked
Back
To the desert
And,
As if speaking to the sands,
She said
"*Our meeting tonight
Was fated*"
She watched the sea
Of rolling sand
For a very long time,
The moonlit dunes
Rolled forever
Out of sight
Then
Without word
Or warning
She turned
And moved toward the jungle
"Just a moment"
I said
Not as easily
As she had turned
"Where are you going?"
A feeling
Undetermined
Perplexing
Came over me
And suddenly
I was afraid of losing her
I had to hurry
Trailing quickly
As she was disappearing
A dark enshrouded jungle
Engulfing
"Why not the meadows
Where only the desert can boast?"
I asked
Upon catching up
"Why not the mountains
Where only the sand can toll
As we walked along
I pointed
Down the fringe
"There are mountains and meadows
But a short distance
From here"
It seemed
Only logical
To walk a path
Of less danger
But still
She said nothing
Continuing
Walking upon
With darkness
Closing in-
Trees all around
As I watched her figure
Moving
Swaying gently
From side to side
I wondered why the fear
Of losing her -
"What has motivated me,
Why am I attracted
Following
This lady
Into an unknown jungle?"
Still
Her step
Never faltered
Nor hesitated-
She moved with sureness
"It all seems strange—"
I thought
"The lady
Of the fringe,
A paradox
Of emotions;
The jungle,
Entrance
To a new garden;
The meeting
Of silence;
And the motivation
Of attraction"
Strange
But still
I followed—
Carefully stepping,
Watching,
Listening-
Strange noises
From the dense green
In the dark
"Not too many
Have coursed
This jungle"
I thought
As I observed
The path—
It was not a path
Of bare ground
Of plains
And mountains—
Instead
Merely
An opening
Between the trees
Carpeted with grass
Providing
A way
Without crawling
Nor climbing—
A path without leisure
Silently stalking
Through the jungle
"A path
Difficult to follow—
Yet,
She moves
With confidence
Assured
And never pausing
It seems
She has traversed
This path
Many times before
And now
She finds it
Easily
By night
But why?"
I wondered
It was curious—
A mystery
In the new garden-
But
Would it help me
Toward the sun?
I could only
Follow
And find out
So I continued
On
And the dark trees
Passed
In the night
As we passed
Through the jungle
And
Into the shadows
Of primordial law
The moon—
A dim
And seldom seen
Light
Through the dense foliage
Was not enough
To keep me, at times, from groping
But
After awhile
And several miles
Gone—
Step after step
Twisting,
Turning,
Stumbling,
And silence, still
Upon the path—
Acute
With piercing noise;
Following
A hazy white
In a jungle
Of distinct black,
Darkness of the night
Enclosing—
She stopped
To rest—
Sitting next
To a fallen branch
A widened area
In the path
I sat down
Also to rest,
Perhaps sleep
The moon beamed
Through the widened area
Illuminating
Again
I noticed
Her physical being
"You are not
Of the desert"
I said
"Your countenance
Is too slim—
Your hair
Not black
You are not
Of the farmers
Of the plains people
You have a radiance
Of tranquility
About yourself
Therefore
Your are not
Of the coastal cities—
And that leaves
Only the mountains—
Your people
Are those of pines
And cabins
And dirt roads
Upon which
To travel
Is that
Not true?"
I waited
A reply
Long
In coming
I moved closer
The night was dark
With sudden noises
Constant
And startling
Finally
In a soft voice
She said
"*Yes,
I am
From the mountain nation*"
But
She said
No more
Her mood was sullen
Depressed
Her eyes gazed ahead
Into the depth
Of thought
Conversation
Seemed useless
Still
I talked
Awhile-
With mostly questions
But her answers
Mostly nods
Told me little more
Of her being
So,
Having nothing
To do
And
Being tired
I stretched out
Upon the path
Leaning my head
Upon the branch—
A soft pillow
Upon a soft bed
In a night
Upon hard thoughts
Pondering,
Dreaming,
Sleeping
The night passed
Without incident
And in the morning
When the sun
Forced its light
Through the dense growth
And
To the chattering
Of little furry animals
She rose—
I rose—
Stretching,
Pulling tight muscles,
Limbering
"Good morning"
I said
Waiting,
Listening
For a friendlier relationship
Than
The night before
But
Her replied 'Good morning'
Was one
With a manner
Of distance
And hope
Turned,
Waiting for patience
She looked ahead
And once again
Started
Down the path—
What else?—
I followed
Behind-
This time
Daylight
And walking was easier
Being able
To see
Without stumbling
On the darkness
Walls of trees
In light
With tentacled vines
Creeping
Leafy
And little animals
playing
And fighting
Running
Through the tops
And
Sitting on the branches
Colorful birds
With long feathers
Perched
And adding
To the jungle sound
"Truly,
A vibrant,
Joyful scene
Of life"
I thought
But I knew
In reality
That
At that moment
Danger
Could be waiting
Anywhere
Along the path
"Danger—
Coagulating the air
With
The scent of blood"
Instead of worrying
About future possibilities
However,
I continued to watch
Little animals
Swinging through trees
Running
And jumping
From branch to branch-
A way of life
Fo
r the creature
Of the habitat,
Instinctively high—
Above the trailing ways
Of preying beasts
As we walked along
A thorny bush
Protruded
Intruding
Bringing my attention
Back to the path
And the lady
In front
She swerved
And
I swerved
Staying clear
Of the needled limbs
Stepping again
Upon the path-
The flowing white
"Her white silk
(Never torn)
Is a signal for the beasts"
I thought
As I reached ahead
And let
The cool silk
Slip through my fingers
I tried to converse,
To communicate,
But still
She said little
"Why the despairing silence?"
I wondered
True—
She spoke
Now and then
But
There was a wall
Of distance
Making her words silent
When finally reaching
To communicate
"What can be gained
From this silence?"
I asked myself - stooping
As the path narrowed
And found its way
Beneath
A low hanging branch
"Nothing . . .
I remember, once
I was told
By a Wise Man of the desert
That
'Experience is the teacher of Masters'
These words
Have remained
In my memory
For many years-
Always conscious
Of other thoughts;
For
In this
And other lifetimes
Experience
Has shown me
The way
To higher truths
As even now
The experience of silence
Whispers
In my mind
The ways
Of the path
Of communication
How can a man
Live
Without it?
There is
No way,
For
All paths
Coincide
With the path
Of communication-
When treading
Upon a path,
Whether
Slowly or quickly
Whether
Backward or forward,
A man listens-
He talks-
But more importantly
He communicates
He receives
And gives
Of himself:
To all who are willing
And to all with whom he is willing;
To himself
Who questions, willingly,
In time of need
And
When paths need to be chosen;
To Nature
Who is always ready to communicate;
And
To God-
Love eternal
Who always IS
But only
When he ceases communication
Does he stop
Upon the path
And
Listening
He hears nothing"
I paused
In mental thought
A moment-
A snake
Slithered across the path
In front of the lady-
Who,
Unheeding,
Continued on
Without hesitation
"Yes,
Only man
Can stop upon the path
When
Other men
Or self
Or Nature
Or God
Speak
But how sad
To turn off
These beings composing life
How sad—
To turn to misery
For love - nonexistent
When he is unwilling
To communicate
With other men
To turn to ignorance
For answers - nonexistent
When he is unwilling
To communicate
With himself
To turn to desolation
For beauty - nonexistent
When he is unwilling
To communicate
With Nature
When he unwilling
To listen-
Touching tips
The soft noise
Of butterfly wings;
To listen-
The smell,
Sage
The desert air
In the rain;
To listen-
The taste,
The blueberry
Of the forest;
To listen-
To the sun
When
It brings him
Warmth
To turn to the void
For the nonexistent being
When he is unwilling
To communicate with God—
Yet,
How untrue
For
However slowly
Man moves
Upon the path of communication
With God-
He cannot stop
Completely
For to do so
Would make him
Nonexistent-
Everything would cease
Yes—
Communication
Is being
But
Sometimes
Communication
Is poor
Or slow
Or sometimes
When there is no desire
(By man)
There is
No communication
(Except with God)"
Again
I asked myself
"What can be gained
From the lack
Of communication?—
Nothing
Perhaps
I shall leave this lady
Once through the jungle"
My thoughts of communication
Dispersed
As the path widened
And merged
Into a jungle opening
Within
And far
To the right—
A large pool of water
"Probably
A watering hole
(Common)
For the animals"
I thought
The path
Trailed
Thirty yards to the right
Of the pool
Crossing the opening
And disappearing
Into the trees
Between the path and pool
Pointing toward the sky
The green stems
Of grass
And all around
The opening
Trees
And vines
And bushes
The sun shone
Through
Reaching ahead
I put my hand
On her shoulder-
The other hand
In gesture
Indicated
A grassy area
Next to the pool
"A relief
For weary travelers"
I said
"Let us drink
The water - life today
For the search tomorrow"
But as I said it
A mental effort
Was needed
To free the last word from my tongue,
My being became tense—
For
At that moment
A large beast of prey
Came bounding
From the underbrush
He stopped,
Becoming intent
Immediately
He perceived us
His claws
Several inches long
Dug the ground
In anticipation
His fangs gleamed
From the flow
Of saliva
His snarl
Lowered the sound
In his throat
And raised his lips
(Showing masticators)
Taut muscles
Were ready
"So,
Here is a beast
Who would bring
An end
To my jungle path
It could have ended
Back there
Or
Further ahead-
But it didn't
And it won't
Instead
It ends here"
I picked up a weapon—
The only weapon—
A large rock
Within a tight grip
Whitened my knuckles
"Quick"
I said
In a quiet, pointed voice
"Run
For that tree"
My finger indicated
A tree
Twenty yards distant—
Low hanging branches
And strong vines
Clinging
Enticing escape
But
Instead of running
And to my amazement
She continued
Indifference
As she looked
Upon the beast
"*It is not
His will
Nor ours
For the grievance
Of destruction*"
She said
As she looked back
To the path
In front
And continued
To walk
Her average gait
Upon
But
Her words
Offered no comfort
I gripped the rock
Tighter
Walking
Befuddled
Not knowing
As I stared
At the beast—
Dimness of life
Surrounded by yellow
And golden fur
Jowls slavered
And fangs
Glistening
In the sunlight
His beady eyes
Watching
Waiting
The right moment
"For the lady
A tearing and rending
Death of tears
And any time
Now
Will be the time"
I thought
The tree was then
Fifteen yards
Away—
"I will grab
The lady
And run
For the nearest branch
It should be strong
Enough—
And perhaps . . ."
But
My decision
Of action
Came too late—
The beast
Made his move
Silence in stride
Bounding
Leaping
Golden
Through the air
Sleek
Rippling strength
The power to rip
To kill
In order to live
To search
To eat the food
From the light
Of the sun
(Though
For life—
Perhaps
Survive)
To know death
Knowing life
And living fuller
To let loose
Living
Higher
Living again
But begins the day
And birth brings
A time
Again
Within the cell
I waited
The agony of rending
The moment
Before parting-
But all
For the unexpected
And wonder
Bounding—
Not the tearing
Of death
Instead
He lay
Beside the path
Preening himself
A bass purr
Sang
From his throat
"But what is this?"
I wondered
And still
In doubt
And
Gripping
I retained my hold
On the rock
The lady
Looked over
Her shoulder,
Momentarily
"*I look
To the past
And
I see you
Searching*"
She said
Ignoring the beast
"*Searching
For an answer
To life -
Searching for the sun—
Infinite wisdom*"
She paused
Lengthy,
As we walked
And gradually
(Walking too slow)
We passed
From the jungle opening
"The beast has recently mealed
On some other victim"
I thought
As we moved
Into the crowded jungle
Green
The lady continued
"*A poet
Once wrote a poem
Which describes the life
Of the searcher:
'We are running upon the waves of time
Swimming through the sands of life
Climbing the mountain of perfection
How high
How long the climb
And oh to slip
To woe
To cry
To die
Then to struggle forward
Drudging moving tiring
Trudging pushing pulling
But look-
Beating heart
Faster,
So fast
For there it is:
The top
Now,
Move quickly—
Hurry
So close
At last
Reaching
Pulling
Climbing
Up
Upon the top
But look-
Another peak
A higher peak
(A new low
In the mind)
But don't cry
Keep moving-
Laugh and love
Have patience
For this is the life
Living
And on a day
Someday
Out of the infinite chain of mountains
Will come your mountain
The wisdom
To set you free
Again
With the infinite mode of being'*"
As she finished
She paused
For a mere moment
And turned her head—
From her twinkling eyes
She laughed,
And then moved on
"Today
We might
Truthfully
Give a little prayer of thanks"
I said
She moved
Silent
I raised
My voice
"How is it
You sound like the voice of Ad Infinitum
Speaking
many truths
But telling me little?"
Silence
"How can we be friends"
I asked
"If you continue
Your silent ways?"
Still
She said nothing
As she led
Upon the path
"Even discomfort
Can be pleasant
With a joyful companion"
I thought
As I looked around
At the jungle
"Evidently, however,
Something
Has disturbed her
And she has built
A mental wall
To keep out the world
Still,
I shall wait,
In following,
Awhile longer
And if my patience
Yields no companion
Then I shall travel,
Again,
Alone
In my quest
For the sun"
We continued on
Both of us
In silence
Tiny
Next to the trees
Looming over
Twisting
Turning
Stooping limbs
And moss
Hanging down
The day was long
In passing-
Fatiguing
Sweating
And resting only
For short spaces
Of time;
Or stopping
To pluck
To eat
Small golden colored berries
Growing upon bushes
And
The seldom trod path
Continued under our feet
The shining sun
Beamed
Shining rays
Upon endless vasts of green
Two moving specks
Moved
Upon the path
There was
Green closing green
Closing in
Upon the tiny path
The path narrowed
At times
And disappeared into a myriad
Of vines
Shrubs
And grasses
Still
Her graceful figure
Always moved easily
Over the thorns
And under the moss swinging trees
Around the quicksand
And
Through the parting bushes
As I continued
To watch her
My mind passed
Into meditation
And
As we passed
Upon the path
The day passed
With part of me
Always watching
Very wary
Of the jaws
Of the moving jungle-
But the path
Wound its way
Through danger
And yielded
No more
Beasts of prey
And the sun
Traveling slow
Upon its path
Through the sky
Found its way
To the horizon
Yielding
The twilight
And dusk
Before the dark
The night came—
Uneventful
It passed
Lying upon
A bed of moss
Beneath a tree
As the jungle sounds
Communicated
Voicing
The sounds of life—
Disturbing
But sleep
Came easily
After the long day
And then
The dawn
And rising
Again
To the morning note
Of jungle birds
Chattering, furry creatures
And cry of victims;
We rose
Again
To trail
Upon the path
It seemed
The new day
Would bring
Another
Journey
With only
The excitement
Of danger
And always trudging
Through jungle ways
But soon
(Traveling not far)
Toward the end
Of the new dawn
The jungle ended-
And the path laughed its way away
"This is good"
I thought
"Now I can travel
A straighter Path
Easier-
And the sun
Is on the horizon"