Reply #46: Rest in Peace Keph

[dweller]

Scala Coeli

We do not see them come,
Their great wings furled, their boundless forms infolded
Smaller than poppy seed or grain of corn,
To enter the dimensions of our world
In time to unfold what in eternity they are,
Each a great sun, but dwindled to a star
By the distances they have traveled.

Higher than cupola their bright ingress;
Presences vaster than the vault of night,
Incorporeal mental spaces infinite,
Diminished to a point and to a moment brought.
Through the everywhere and nowhere invisible door
By the many ways they know,
The thoughts of wisdom pass;
In seed that drifts in air or on the waters' flow,
They come to us down ages long as dreams
Or instantaneous as delight.

As from seed tree, flower, and fruit
Grow and fade like a dissolving cloud,
Or as the impress of the wind
Makes waves and ripples spread,
They move unseen across our times and spaces.
We try to hold them, trace on walls
Of cave, cave-temple or monastic cell their shadows cast:
Animal-forms, warriors, dancers, winged angels, words of power
On precious leaves inscribed in gold and lapis lazuli,
Or arabesques in likeness of the ever flowing.
They show us gardens of Paradise, holy mountains
Where water of life springs from rock or lion's mouth,
Walk with us unseen, put into our hands emblems,
An ear of corn, pine cone, lotus, looking glass or chalice;
As dolphin, peacock, hare or moth or serpent show themselves,
Or human-formed: a veiled bride, a boy bearing a torch,
Shrouded or robed or crowned, four-faced,
Sounding lyre or sistrum, or crying in bird-voices.

Water and dust and light
Reflect their images as they slowly come and swifly pass.

We do not see them go
From visible to invisible like gossamer in the sun;
Bodies by spirit raised
Fall as dust to dust when the wind drops,
Moth-wing chrysalis.
Those who live us and outlive us do not stay
But leave empty their semblances, icons, bodies
Of long-enduring gold or the fleet golden flower
On which the Buddha smiled.
In vain we look for them where others found them,
For by the vanishing stair of time immortals are forever departing;
But while we gaze after the receding vision
Others are already descending through gates of ivory and horn.

Kathleen Raine


dedicated to the boy bearing a torch,
dp