Twin Rays Reclaimed
By Merlin of Camelot
Channeled by Anthony Citro (2011)
When and where we stood upon the shoaly bank,
Betwixt the time that was and the time that may yet come to pass,
The gilded swan did start,
Interrupting our interlocked gaze upon the other …
A ray of light from the awe-looming sun
Did shine upon this blessed bird’s bejeweled wing,
Refracted in your sanctified iris,
And we did did break but for one moment the promise of love’s return …
As we did come to meet yet again,
Now incoherent of this grace-gifted mercury’s messenger,
So we resumed our inner journey,
And the delicate downy-winged swan can stand at sentinel,
Feathers now becalmed and content from bottom perch
To observe the future prospects of its own native mating,
Absorbed in osmosis by the lesson of our mutual adoring …
And so, ignorant of audience and surround, flew we up, up beyond the ethers to
The vastness of the void … and yet, and yet we stood upon the rocky, watery
Bank … and we did know each other …
But greedy still of heavens permission, perforce my hand here did
Reach, gently to caress your golden lock,
And you did tilt your gentle head, love-tickled, and I did wink at thee, my Beloved …
How dare we then could half-estimate the scope of divinity, through the looking
glass of desire’s smokey quartz,
One to the other and mutually returned …
And so lost now, in quantity of time unbeknownst,
And sudden seeming, an expanse of silken starry substance did encroach upon
Our eternal meditation,
Transmuting welcome warmth from the Father Sphere above,
To cool the ebullient danger-play of our reverie,
Into an o’ershadowing of now icy-hot revelation,
Mock warning the fortuitous frolic of our twin soul’s conjoining …
Valiant and warrior clad then did I summon up my manly manners,
Proposing thus to merge complete with thee, ‘neath the near night,
And tall windswept rowan grove,
And the gentle lapping of the brook,
Which now devoid of our feathered friend,
Who full up from its theatrical seating of our goddess-prompted display
Did exeunt our sacred space, in search of his own bliss-date with destiny …
My twice trembling hand must now quit thy transformed pearly-coated visage,
Made thus by moon glow’s now prominent regard,
And my arms full length, fire-fueled and boy-eager,
In frantic search of thy dewy palm,
Did campaign once more upon the front of thy lady halting,
And finding target, now digit clasped, eye melded, and heart held,
Did I manifest my final battle
And so victorious did you then, and only then, surrender and open the city gates
Of love’s mystery,
There to submit once more and finally,
Essence to spirit,
Form to thought,
Feeling to god-graced sense,
In culmination. of our long-yearned-for return …
To love …
To light …
To infinity …