Stretched out in small pool, filled with water clear and cool, we went about our discussion, the repercussion of which strained my every nerve and tensed every curve of my body … although, oddly enough, there was no complete abdication of relaxation as Kheba braided arm and legs with my own, our bodies half-laid between Metuşelah and Lemek.
“So do you remember Dyēus gave birth to his three daughters, the Tri-Mater?” I gave slight nod of my head, resting upon bed of her bosom. “You know, too, the truly hateful jealousy of Şeytan and his baitful lies and flies of hell he sends round the world, ready always to ring death bell. You remember, too, how Ma’at flew out from the heavenly ether breathed by Dyēus, to slaughter the maggot fodder of the ddiafol; how Şeytan as squirming worm did deceive Havva, who gave the fruit of discernment to Adama to receive without leave from God, who wept at commandment not kept.”
“Yes,” I whispered in subdued alarm as Lemek wrapped strong arm round my shoulders, sitting next to me like deific boulder.
“You remember, too, Kaini ever-so cruel, an human ghoul born of Adama and Havva, after sinister sister, Lilith; how Kaini and Abele struggled ~ brother and brother ~ Kaini murdering his best of kin without rest, till the cries of agony finally ceased for Abele deceased.” My terror and nausea increased at the vivid memory — Kaini so ugly and livid. “And the smiles of Lilith with her cunning wiles, and how she fled miles to the east to feast on kindred beast, where she would be high priest of the newly birthed city of Smriti.”
The hulk of Metuşelah shifted his bulk, sleepily breathed deeply, but entered gracefully into the quiet recounting of such horrid memory. “Yes, and then from black tomb of Lilith’s womb came Kālikā, warrior goddess severing heads and leading the dead, who cast dæmonic spell upon Bast, who then ever-so fast held to blood lust, and especially to suck from the bust of men. Ah, but Kālikā was kicked by Dyēus, tricked into lying with angel Tanrı, who paid the great price and coupled with hideous vice incarnate, so Kālikā bore Parvati, sweet goddess of verdancy and vibrancy.”
“Ah! But this angered the bitch-witch, Bast, who cast her lot on lush, green plain in hush of life, to build her city out of self-pity!” Kheba practically spit the words out from pit of her stomach, now locked like rock. “Then came her miserable tower of power, for she was hell-bent on reaching back to the halls of Valhalla, where she believed she was meant, though sent away by Dyēus himself for such misuse of so much given her since birth … when she was worth so much more … store of my heart … broke … broke with one stroke of wicked spell from hell.” Ah! Ah! I bolted forward and turned sharply toward her… “Yes, my love. My womb made room for child, and in due time cast forth Bast, my daughter … and I thought like clay, and I the potter. But she was ere so cool, and I the fool!”
“Then came the fire and ice,” Metuşelah spoke with eyes now open, but distant and resistant to all present. “This … this is when I was born and torn from my dying mother by father and brother; and the one who married her never buried her, though his heart bled — Henokh — for he had no time; he led his family quickly ahead of danger to chamber of safety.” He looked at me with blank stare at such grave affair…
“The Watchers had come…”
Note: First Photo, “The Goddess Bridgit: Passion,” by Helen O’Sullivan (Recast Here as Kheba); Second Photo, “Nevada’s Mysterious Cave of the Red-haired Giants,” by Terrence Ayn as found at http://www.beforeitsnews.com (Recast Here as Man Facing the Watchers)
“These good people you see have know tragedy and misery,” Kheba continued walking me along the streets, talking about this strange and ancient place, explaining the mysterious story I saw written in every face. “Only two generations ago, the Watchers blew through this city and all her surrounding fields, and practically drowned the people in blood, ground their communal life into dust, and the sound that issued forth was one of the most terrific, horrific cries of fear and pleas for mercy ever heard before or since; the tears were blood, sweat, and bile piled ten miles high.”
Then we rounded another corner, this one bounded by exquisite marble, and spied the two tried and true warrior-heroes: Metuşelah and Lemek, both young and hearty, strong and ruddy, sturdy, rough and tough in demeanor, yet also obviously clever achievers and relievers of their people. And Metuşelah looked barely older than Lemek, which I told her in whisper tone, but the two men seemed to hear as if they were as near as she, and so kindly laughed as to wash away all my fear. Their physique was so sleek and shimmered with enchanting mystique, gazing upon them burned my cheeks and churned my heart; I lowered my face so not to further debase myself. Kheba wove her arm in mine and boldly marched me forward toward these two most handsome demigods.
“These are the two who led the battle against the Watchers, and bled their own blood to save so many knaves against the Fallen Ones, though they had brave friends in the fight, who would not bend their knees or bow their necks to such horrendous sight and blight of evil!” At this Metuşelah and Lemek did slightly bow forward toward Kheba in an authentic attitude of humble gratitude for her laudatory remarks, but themselves would not embark upon their own praises. “This is why grandfather named this man, his son, Metuşelah, meaning ‘he shall bring death,’ and in turn father named this man, his son, Lemek, meaning ‘lamentation;’ for surely did Dyēus foresee the awful lacrimation coming in the fractionation and devastation of this city and whole region, swept over by legions of dæmons, bothers of the Watchers who fathered the Nephilim, whore beasts who made feast on human flesh.”
Metuşelah stoutly stepped out from behind an unadorned woodwork table, and ably embraced me in cultural fashion of greeting, so powerful, upon meeting the welcome stranger, assuring me there was no danger here. And Lemek followed his father, hugging me nearly like brother … perhaps more, to adore. But even this left me nothing less to abhor in the images now running through my mind, like cunning devils to bind my thoughts to stark darkness, which I marked with disgust and determination, insisting on resisting within myself. The playful squeals of children in the background, abounding in cheer, found its way into my soul and helped drive away the drear thoughts brought along by Kheba, though she never sought to depress me nor repress light and joy.
“What is so complexly perplexing and frustrating, leaving us prostrating in prayer, is the continued presence of the Rephaim,” Lemek spoke in smooth baritone voice, choice words in perfect timing, though it would seem I knew nothing of these Rephaim. But with gleam in his eye, Lemek would tell me something, happily leading me inside cool home with small pool filled with clear cool water for refreshing oneself from beat of overwhelming heat; treasured sight for eyes to meet when one felt so torn and over-borne with exhaustion. Lemek bid me enter, as did he, Metuşelah and Kheba … and found it best to rest in quiet for awhile. Then goddess Kheba began to speak again, to pull together what so far I’d gained in knowledge…
Metuşelah — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), one of the ancient patriarchs descended from Adam and his so, too, Seth; also the grandfather of Noah in the biblical narrative; Metuşelah, or Methuselah, is said to have lived for 969 years; also importantly, the name Methuselah comes from two roots: muth, a root that means “death” ; and from shalach, which means “to bring,” or “to send forth.” Thus, the name Methuselah signifies, “his death shall bring.” (Cf. Jones, Alfred, Dictionary of Old Testament Proper Names; Pink, Arthur W., Gleanings in Genesis; Stedman, Ray C., The Beginnings, Word Books.)
Lemek — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), the son of Metuşelah and father of Noah; Lemek, or Lamech, is said to have lived 777 years; also importantly, the name Lamech, a root still evident today in our own English word, “lament” or “lamentation;” suggests “despairing.” (Koinonia House, Churck Missler, “Meanings Of The Names In Genesis 5,” as accessed October 4, 2015)
The Watchers — “According to the book of I Enoch the watchers were angels who fell from heaven and changed the order of their nature by lusting after and fornicating with women, thus corrupting the sons of men and prompting the great flood… The book of Jubilees affirms the identification of the heavenly watchers, and adds that the watchers violated the law of their ordinances when they lusted after women, their polygamous relationships with women produced monstrous offspring… The Qumran literature contains similar accounts of these watchers.” (G. W. Bromiley, ed. The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, Volume Four: Q-Z, 1024)
Nephilim — The monstrous offspring of the Watchers; the giants of the land mentioned in the sixth chapter of Genesis in the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament). Somehow possibly related to the Rephaim?
Rephaim — The Rephaim are known from biblical, Ugaritic, and Phoenician sources. In the Bible two uses of the term are discernible. The first is as Gentilic, referring to a people distinguished by their enormous stature… In its second use Rephaim designates “shades” or “spirits” and serves as a poetic synonym for metim. It thus refers to the inhabitants of the netherworld. This second meaning is also found in Phoenician sources. (Encyclopedia Judaica, “Rephaim,” as accessed October 4, 2015; cf. also Wikipedia, “Rephaite,” as accessed October 4, 2015)
Please Note: Characters, places, events (historical or legendary) have been recast in these poetic narratives. However, end-of-entry descriptions and definitions are valid, being derived from legitimate, trustworthy sources, and offered to the reader for her/his own interest and knowledge. First Photo, “Beware the Watchers,” by Shadoweddancer; Second Photo, “Warrior,” by illuminatedmind; Third Photo found at www.thetruthnews.com
“You see them digging canals, working with first crude riggings, farming fields for harvest yields, herding their animals, and girding sacred shrines with flowered shrubs and trees, all of them working like kindred bees,” Kheba pointed to the finely-jointed thousands working without shirking their varied tasks, basking under radiant, Mesopotamian sun, in and around the one great city of ancient Sumeria; with magnificent aria arising as if from earthen angels. “There is no coercion here, and no aversion to labor. Here is Uruk, where each one is neighbor and, though shocked you may be, peace and harmony is not forced by threat of sabre.”
Truly what I saw was beauty in the raw — mundane, but certainly not plain — rain of divine creativity sparked from within early humanity, and all without vanity.
“There is no king, either,” Kheba smiled. “The song the people sing arises from one shared spirit, paired with affection under the protection and direction of Inanna, my sister-companion Cybele, daughter of Father Dyēus.”
In the city now, I felt self-pity and ugly jealousy as I zealously tried to believe what ears and eyes perceived. “Is this true? This hue of golden paradise, or merely some celestial revue? Entertainment of the Jinn for attainment of deific laughter, after which the world will return to its state of decay, churn of dismay, and burn of sin?” I could not help but question with ill-composed facial expression.
Kheba merely laughed at my pathetic suggestion of numinous trickery. “Oh, how I find it humorous that you so bitterly want to disbelieve history largely unknown to you because of your own preconceived notions of humanity, to which you so stubbornly cleave. Or do I misperceive?” She had an attractive glimmer in her eyes, two spies into my heart. “But no, I shouldn’t tease; you’re part is that of student, my love, so be prudent and let your mind be lucent.”
Walking down smooth, stoned streets to the regular, rhythmic beat of hundreds of feet walking amid never-ending talking, while workday went on with ne’er a yawn, I more sensibly inquired, “So it seems they aspired to communism, yet without dogmatism and no need for vulgar populism? No trace of fascism, obviously no vandalism, nor apparently gross masochism? Only egalitarian optimism?”
Kheba actually bent over in guffaw, struggling to draw her breath. “Pshaw! I should claw you raw, little boy, but then I’d have no toy to enjoy; and you play such the magnificent jester, I simply cannot fume and fester… Oh! By the fires of the Abyss and all that’s amiss, truly I love you!” And she laughed again, then calmed to an angelic grin, pulled me close and pressed lips to lips — sweet treat for undeserving man. “Can you not listen to me for sake of learning rather than burning inside always to answer from cancer of your own ignorance? You’re like a dancer in heat but three beats off and always bumbling and stumbling!” After this came yet more laughter… At least Kheba wasn’t angry; she rather found me a feast of comical delight.
“You are now thirty-two hundred years before the world will hear so much of such political musings — all too amusing, really. No, you’re being silly. Even through blurred mental vision, has it never occurred to you that humanity might have had to learn the awful art of suppression, wicked oppression, heinous aggression? Oh, look around you, and like a book keenly read this scene; this is not a perfect community with complete heavenly unity. There are those with more and those with less; those who seem to soar and those who crawl and bawl; most who kindly live, yet some few who brawl. No, my little dove of love, this is not Eden, but she is the Maiden of true Civilization; the occasion for falling from such graceful situation is still centuries in the offing.”
We could see women spinning and weaving, pinning and heaving bundles of cloth; yet some were brewing and others stewing, but all working, none lurking. Between buildings of clay cones and mud bricks, limestone and timber, we strolled seemingly unseen. “There are two men here, father and son, of great feat whom I want you to meet,” Kheba casually spoke. “Metuşelah and Lemek…”
Uruk — One of the earliest (known) sizeable cities; by approx. 3100 BCE “Uruk … was vastly bigger than any community that had existed before … anywhere. It was enclosed by a city wall ten kilometers around, and may have had a population of as many as twenty-five thousand.” (Amanda Podany, The Ancient Near East: A Very Short Introduction, 17)
Innana — patron deity and queen of Uruk; “goddess of both love and war, (and) was worshipped in other cities as well, but Uruk was her home.” (Ibid)
Metuşelah — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), one of the ancient patriarchs descended from Adam and his son, Seth; also the grandfather of Noah in the biblical narrative; Metuşelah, or Methuselah, is said to have lived for 969 years.
Lemek — In the Hebrew scriptures (Old Testament), the son of Metuşelah and father of Noah; Lemek, or Lamech, is said to have lived 777 years.
Note: First Photo, “Ishtar, The Goddess Wisdom Cards,” by Jill Fairchild, Regina Schaare & Sandra M. Stanton as found at Land of Goddesses (Recast here as Innana); Second photo, “Mari 5,000 Years Ago, Syria,” by Balage Balogh (Recast here as ancient Uruk)