Dark At Night; Dangerous Without Light

Oh how the Evil One can appear as an angel of light, indeed, and how so very attractive the promises made! In my mytho-poetic series, this was my second encounter with wickedly alluring Bast. And would I give myself up to her death? This piece is an altogether dark beginning of an unsettling episode in my mythic journey. If you have not before, please enjoy now. (Also, this represents a continuation of my exploration into poetic narrative; not to everyone’s taste, to be sure, but poets do experiment!)

moon1“It’s dark at night and dangerous without light,” she said, while holding candle by bejeweled, golden handle. “Vandals run as wild here as desert beasts… You are alone?” She was an altogether radiant maiden, fragrant with exotic oils and incense, and made no pretense of threat. “You should get up and come; you’re only some way from water and better rest in nest of greenery and flowers, neath protective bowers.”

Yes, of course I’ll follow. Why lie here so hollow in desert sand, waiting to be killed by wandering band? And so I struggled to my feet in complete determination to go where she led to be fed from clear, cool watering hole, though tottering on weak legs; nevertheless, in such state as this, whose soul would not beg to go on? So I approached her; she reproached me not, but smiled and beguiled my heart.

The candle? Now where? No where, but how? Still the flame with which she came … No, more expansive, impressive … even growing more massive. Wonder overtook me and shook me. Moving, flaming ball, practically brewing in her hand … changing colours ranging the artist’s palette. What mystic talent does this one possess? Her smile only widened but seemed all the more kindly, so I blindly tread forward toward this sprite of the night.

With every step the flame began to elongate more and more into some kind of straight slate. She could see my confusion, but remained sedate, content to await my arrival. But for what? To help or end my survival? All began to take more shape and I could not escape noticing that fire now burned underneath what looked like funeral pyre… Funeral pyre! I suddenly looked straight into the wickedly beautiful eyes of Bast, who’d cast her spell once again without warning bell.

“No wait! I throw out no bait,” she said in near desperation, as in exasperation I’d started to turn away. “Come no closer, then, but stay where you are; stand away thus far, but hear what I have to say… Stay.” I looked at her again — foolish sin — and she appeared differently, intently gently. Innocent yet magnificent. Calm. Herself numinous balm for all my wounds, hurts and pains and strains. “Don’t go away. Stay.” And so I did.

She looked sad, but under glow of bright light of the moon, not at all bad. Neither was she mad, but upon my stopping and turning back toward her, just a bit glad … mournfully so, but not scornfully as she had been when we’d met before and she’d set about to emasculate me! Had she changed? Perhaps she has a story, too, so why should I worry to hear her tale? Can I not bear as much, or shall I so utterly fail as a man?

“I was thrown out by my mother; blown out by God to live forever upon sod of earth,” Bast began as if in answer to my thought … but what had I just bought? “I am wicked, twisted, afflicted, and unacquitted. Restricted here … convicted of crimes I never committed, I admit I’ve become addicted… Oh! But hear me, dear one! Let some other sun shine in your heart! Give me mercy’s part, and let our relationship begin again without stain of past nor strain of lies!”

I began stepping forward toward her again. But what of funeral pyre? Is she still the same liar? Will she set me to the fire? Desert wind blew threw and somehow I knew … but I came well within reach of arm and potential harm, yet strangely with no alarm. She changed, I could clearly see; wrapped herself around me, bound me. I made not a sound. Nothing of this seemed to confound. “You have only to pass through the fire as if in a chasse.”

But pyres are for funeral fires, I thought to myself, though I’d already brought doom upon myself. I didn’t care; to escape the DarkWomangloom of this world was enough for me to assume any change would be fresh breath, even death. How to pass through, though, when lying down and dying is what’s called for here? Bast laughed, but not half as cruelly as she could, and coolly explained, “I was speaking metaphorically, but not horribly, my love; certainly not with austerity or in vulgarity.”

Cold. Cold in her hold. Breath. Her breath smelled of death.

“Only lie down and drown yourself in the flames, and do not blame yourself for so doing… You’re going to be mine.”

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Gracious Hand; Exit the Sand

IsaOne hand reached across the sand. Hand with hole in wrist, and I could not resist. Hand to hand to assist; no longer could I persist to insist upon my own demise no matter how much my life I did despise. The disappearance of Bast and sudden appearance of another was quite a surprise, but welcome. No face could I see in my debased estate, but I knew as fresh wind blew that here was one who could offer something anew. I grasped the hand without demand; there was no reprimand but only kind command, “Arise! Be gone with the lies, and claim your prize of life without compromise! It is yours, though you still be oh-so unwise.”

Phantasmal range of change.

Verdant green. Soft bed of grass. Scene of beauty. Lake of crystalline glass.

I opened my eyes to clear, blue skies. Skies above rolling hills to still my heart. Yet stain of remorse; pain of guilt remained, though I strained to forget.

“You need not live with regret,” spoke shadowy figure. “I’ve set your feet again upon the way you may walk; for you this is your new day… Rest here for awhile, but do not stay.” Eyes of soft brown, shimmering crown of thorns. “I do not reprimand; there is no more demand upon your soul, but the hole is for you to fill at will … if you will.” Very still in his presence I offered no resistance, and I seemed to understand, and deemed this One most worthy to heed; this One who even now seemed to fill my need … my need of which I really knew nothing, as the Spirit of Life blew over and through the hillocks.

Reaching. Touching. He bade farewell to fade back into ethereal world somehow more real than reality; the immaterial more potent than the material … and could I comprehend? No. I could only pretend, and that I would not do, but ascend now in my journey again without feign of greatness — I had none — nor courage or wisdom; I’d really only begun. So under bright sun, I made my way to cool, clear pool of water abiding just off the side of celestial lake. Would these be the hills of my restoration, my own mount of transfiguration?

Suddenly I ripped my tattered clothes, stripped naked and like madman ran into the small sea now free of Bastian glee! I plunged myself down into refreshing water as if to drown the plight of previous night. Rolling, turning and churning, I made my way to the bottom and up again into bright light of sun. And I wept, and I kept weeping flood of tears mixed with blood. I plunged again and lunged forward in cleansing font — bathing, purging poison — with nothing to haunt me here; no one to taunt. I was free again to be me … or, at least, to begin to be the me I could now begin to see. And the water felt as if this very element could be daughter of Dyēus.

This time I did not run. This time I swam and shouted, “I Am!”

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In Fire On Funeral Pyre

AjnaThirdEyeThe fire never seemed to burn, and I did not turn. I just laid there, completely bare, as Bast looked on quietly and more than slightly pleased that I’d appeased her. I knew my body was being consumed, and assumed by the night air beneath bright light of moon, and I would soon be gone. There was no liturgy for my funeral; no synergy of seen and unseen worlds. There were none who mourned my passing; none who adorned the pyre now set afire. But there was Bast holding my hand as I died on desert sand with no demand upon my fading life.

She smiled. “You are but a child. You’re lying to yourself in thinking you’re dying. I’m not grilling you!” She laughed again. “I’m not killing you; I’m filling you with life and thrilling you with freedom you’ve never known, liberty you’ve never been shown. There is no right or wrong, no light or dark … only the song that long plays for those who pay the price to be set free and forever be at liberty. This is what you do now, my love, and you’ll no longer bow to fraud of a god, who hides behind facade of holiness and righteousness!”

Indeed you are lying to yourself as you’re dying in the fire of funeral pyre, the inaudible voice came unexpectedly. Choice. You have choice. You need not blindly bind yourself to this fate; there is an open gate … even now. My mind was torn asunder as I wondered to whom this voice belonged and longed to know, for her to show herself. I am Ajna, your third eye, and I heard your cry, your mournful sigh, ever before they escaped your soul, which now descends into deep, dark hole. Rise up now; you have the strength! Surprise Bast, who will flee as you truly set yourself free!

The flames rose higher, fire fuelling self-induced blame and shame. What could I do? What should I do? Why try anymore? Why not lie here and die? Precisely because you will die, and never be able to try again; never to begin again. Life may be rife with pain and seemingly no gain … but life is living, and living is in giving, not in swimming in self-pity! And you see no celestial city because there isn’t any! What? Did you expect Dyēus to respect you so much that he’d create some special place for you to recreate? 

“Stay. Day is almost upon us, but deed is almost done, before arises again the sun,” Bast calmly intoned, but now in my mind’s eye I could see her enthroned in tower of power brought low by blow of Dyēus. “Ah … you do well to sell you soul to me to keep forever deep in armored heart that never seeps. You will be mine forever and never again worry nor scurry about in fear, for fear shall never draw near. Hear what I say this day: You will never feel again, as I peel away all emotion and commotion of heart, mind, and soul.”

You haven’t long before you forever belong to this witch-bitch, came silent voice of Ajna. Leap up now, and keep yourself from evil power! Now is the hour … the moment! Sun is rising on far horizon to lighten, but you will be poisoned and unenlightened, imprisoned forever by wicked siren… Leap up and run!

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Note: This “episode” is the continuation of Dark at Night; Dangerous Without Light. To fully appreciate this installment, the reader really ought to read the previous “episode.” Thank you and all the best w/blessings! Peace and cheer!

Also, Ajna — obviously somewhat personified here — is taken from the fourth Chakra in the Chakra “system” or perspective of the human being. Ajna is associated with the heart and, thus too, with love and relationships. However, this is one of the most important as Ajna is “the center through which all energies must pass in transit from one group of chakra layers to another and from one reality to another. This chakra and its associated chakra layer filter all energies, thoughts, and experiences, which ultimately affect us emotionally, physically, and spiritually Linked to the “feeling body” the heart chakra is the central focus between the lower and upper chakras (White, R. (2009). Using your chakras: A new approach to healing your life. New York: Barnes and Noble Books).

One From Whom You Cannot Run

Celtic2“One great sage of your age very wisely surmised that to truly discipline the unruly mind is very much in kind with the man, who tries as he can to empty the ocean three tea cups a day while allowing no dismay,” Bilgeliği Meleği intoned in well-honed voice of wisdom. “Yet there is an intense defense you can commence without delay, lest you prefer to stay in vulnerability to the mystic motility of Bast?” Kheba chose not to show emotion as I shook my head no.”This also involves change that will almost derange, though quicker and thicker.”

“There was another sage, who lived long before your age, yet from here is still to come in quite some time from now, but how he chose to live, to best his foes, is what you need to know. And so I will tell you how best to fell Bast in one lesson he taught — this Enlightened One who himself her fought — and it is this gem of wisdom you must not miss: That the ill-thatched hut is but hopeless, for when the sky rains her blood, she does flood the whole house; and does not that rain cause pain to husband, children and spouse? So, too, the ill-thatched mind: Evil will find his way in and flood and stay, causing nothing but dismay. Guard your mind, then; find the best way. And your heart, as well, for it plays even the better part.”

Palms waved in the calm breeze with the seeming ease of a royal dance, amid the prance of flower petals across the courtyard embossed in symbols and scenery surrounded by lush greenery, all to lance the heart with beauty and carry the mind from duty into sleepful trance. And so Kheba seemed to fade as I unwittingly bade farewell to Bilgeliği Meleği…

Ah … and so here you are again from there, but where?  the voice came ever so sick-sweetly and hauntingly-meekly… No, no one … no one … no one is here but one… the voice was soft and numinously aloft. No, no one but the son of perdition in hopeless condition … so hopeless, you may as well aspire to drown in fire, or turn to burn in water  the laughter fallenoneof rebel-daughter came quickly after … light but cruel, slight but brutal. No monsters or surreal songsters; no spiritual stealers, soul dealers, nor heart mealers; no ghosts or dæmonic hosts … only one … only one … only one from which you cannot...

“Run!” screamed the voice of Lemek. “Make your choice! Fight the plight in sight, or run!” I was stunned. “But the Watchers are upon us at the very gates with unrestrained hate, and you, my friend,” he pointed to me for all to see, “are only bait! Wait not longer, then, but run toward the rising sun!” And off he was with angry scoff, bedecked in leather plate, straight to battle the now-cursed chattel of Şeytan, with bronze shield and sword ready to wield against archenemy of humanity. And suddenly there was frantic motion and loud commotion all around, leaving my heart to practically pound out of my chest despite my best to calm the rising alarm.

“Are you deaf and fool, too?” Kheba yelled as she grabbed long, sharp tool. “Run! Or prepare to be spun by the Watchers like fly in web to say your last ‘good-bye!'” She looked at me clearly fiercely, yet with pity, practically begging me to flee the city. “My love, you are no fighter; you are writer, and if not would do better to wear the mitre; there is no shame in this, my dove, and so no reason for blame. Your name may yet live on, as it should, if only you learn to tame your mind … as Bilgeliği Meleği so wisely said so soon from our bed…” One last look; one ill-thought of Bast; and one tear did leak to run down her cheek. I would have bawled and crawled to her in that moment to beg to face together our opponent, but… “Go! Go now while you can, how you can; east toward the rising sun, and take not the least respite no matter how desperate for rest, but test your strength over and against your best till the hillocks round this city are but the collage of a far mirage.”

warriorwomaniOne last passionate embrace and kiss, and did I miss her sudden change into ethereal coating and weaponry that all the better expressed very real divine strength that for my sake she’d somewhat repressed? No, this I could not miss, nor could I insist upon staying, thus laying an extra burden on her shoulders that would surely have weighed like a boulder. No, and so alone I …

Ran!

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Bilgeliği Meleği — lit. “wisdom angel” (from Turkish)

Note: For the hyperlinked portion of the torturous taunting of Bast (above) I must give inspirational credit to eloquentparadise. Thank you for the inspiration! First Image found at IMÁGENES DE JUEGOS, GUILD WARS at www.fondoscelular.com; second image found at Greek Mythology; third image found at www.fashionstyle.com (‘Daredevil Season Two: Elektra’)

Wake Up, Baby, It Was Just A . . .

EmpowermentEvonDavisNow awake, I told my hellmare, and Kheba was quite right in her take: It was more than dream mixed with cream of dæmons. No, twas phantastical vision and that, with frightening precision. Through time and space, could Bast now slither and lace herself? Had she gained such power? Certainly not from her ill-fated tower! But how now? Kheba, daughter of Dyēus, one of the Tri-Mater, actually looked shaken! I’d been crooked into the isolated presence of Bast, who’d cast me into her unholy royal chamber … right out of the arms of Kheba and her protection from harm! Tears streamed down her light brown skin, but what could smear such beauty? Still, as she wrapped herself around me, bound me fast to take away the last of my terror, my heart broke for her — for Kheba — like a stroke to the inner core of my spirit, and I bore her burden with her without fully knowing the burden (and almost surely showing my ignorance.)

Smooth diorite walls and halls, finely intermixed with divinely decorative lapis lazuli surrounded us, with profoundly long, large tables of shining marble along the sides, strong but radiantly soft, holding aloft plants and flowers of myriad kind with their silent chant of life and peace and joy — nothing here to annoy — and the bed worthy of royalty said clearly we were more than welcome. The home of Metuşelah and Lemek was our home, as well (what was so easy to tell.) Yonder was silver pitcher of fine wine, another of clear cool water from courtyard pool, and two bejeweled goblets; bell to ring to tell servants to come from their rooms to resume their task of fulfilling our needs, basking in the glory of guest goddess. Refreshing breeze blew silently through our room, but darkness loomed, darker than the darkness of night … the blight of evil darkness … live-evil. And Kheba marked the dark as Bast, who’d cast her presence into this time and space, but showing her face only to me without her mother to see.

M13006Kheba stared out one of the paired arched openings at the palms calmly dancing, swaying to and fro, back and forth with no lack of encouragement from the gentle wind to slightly bend their bodies in sightly beauty as if in answer to some divine duty. “Nothing here will change,” she practically whispered. “We cannot rearrange; Tariqah is still dead … her head severed by sword from horde of wild Watchers.” Kheba’s voice trailed off, but not before she nailed me with eyes. “She cannot alter history, nor must we falter in our reaching your soul and teaching you, for you are clay and we the potter — we the Tri-Mater — under watchful eye of Dyēus who does spy everything, but…” She looked away and brooked not the terrible subject for which she could confect no answer. Did her father know, yet never bother to show, or had God become so slow? “She got to you and I never knew she could reach so far and breach the barrier being the carrier of such evil… Bast has grown stronger in ability, has greater mobility, and certainly not less in hostility.”

I shivered despite the warm air of night and pressed in closer to the might of Kheba … but why? She would keep me safe, but could she? This was the question now, and I had to bow to the ruthless truth that Bast had quite possibly become as powerful as Kheba somehow. And now what of Maftet and Ma’at from whom I’d sought refuge? And Sélená so bright; could she smite Bast and cast her back to dungeon gloom, her own living tomb? Ah … what had transpired to mire us in such dire straights?

Oh Dyēus on high, fly swiftly to our side and stay ever-so nigh!

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Terror: Blast of Bast and the Meek Seeker

bast6How the hell did I get here, I wondered. But now that’s a pretty question: Here is not there where I was, but where is here? It is cold and I haven’t even a coat to fold round me. It was warm with Kheba, and she promised no harm, but this … this does alarm!  And then I heard the laughter — cruel and mocking — I turned and churned inside, and was instantly beside myself. There she was, seated upon regal crystalline throne; hauntingly beautiful; tauntingly majestic. Poisonous pied piper, I knew her with only some few glances before… Bast.

“Did you think you had gone unnoticed, my little fawn?” Sprinkle of mystic evil and twinkle in her eye, she could easily spy my fear, though I shed not a tear. “Oh … my mother? Perhaps sisters or brothers? No, they are not here, my dear; and Maftet and Ma’at cannot be sought.” She rose, striking an altogether magnificent pose, looking as if she were deciding just how to dispose of me, nothing more to her than an insignificant bumble-bee. Her smile was meant to beguile as she stepped down from royal chair with barely any sound, and I instantly found myself in arm’s reach.

“Yes, I’ll loosen your fetters and teach you better, for I know what you want — your deepest secrets and desires, hardwired into your soul from foul bowl of Dyēus — and there’ll be no more frustration after your castration. Ah! No, no, no … this is not damnation; this will be the foundation for new life, not an aberration nor stagnation of existence. Nay! It is in your persistence in mere subsistence of what you now are, which is far from what I will make you, that causes such aggravation and exasperation.” Finger to my lips to hush, shamefully causing me to blush.

It seemed every beam, the floor and ceiling was coated in ice, bloated by an ongoing winter, so I knew without asking and wondered how it was Bast was basking as if in glory … but, perhaps, she had another story to tell? Evil may not mind the bind of freezing cold too bold for mortals… Ha! The slice of ice that kills may fill her with a measure of pleasure! But what of me? Shall I be made a eunuch by her wicked blade?  With that thought, the very laugh of Bast half killed me… In one very real sense, I’d have preferred to seal my death than endure the coming torture; I desired complete departure.

“Why do you think this will hurt when I’m expert in this skill; it will not kill,” Bast circled around me and bound me by her very presence. It was then I noticed the irregular, eleven-pointed star on the floor, with seven longer than four, which bore grotesque images of creatures only to detest. What meaning did Bast invest in this symbol, and what black majik did mingle within? “Ah, so many numbers, eh? And so many say what each means, but they lean on their own understanding, misapprehending.”

She seemed intent to explain, but that without any strain: “The seven pointed rays represent perfection — and upon reflection, you’ll remember learning as much, such as your learning goes — and the seven flow out further, which means they are read first, said first. The four shorter rays display rebellion … rebellion by an hellion like me!” And Bast shook the palatial tower of power with her tremendous laughter. Stupendous, to be sure, and certainly horrendous. So she imagines herself the perfection of defection from heavenly realms; highest infection upon the earth … without much reflection?

“You doubt me!” came the angry shout. “We’ll have a bout, then, to convince you of my clout! Whom do you think could rise so high and sink so low; higher than the heavens, below even the Abyss? Lies in guise of truth! Flies of lies from Dyēus, the Tri-Mater witch-bitch, and their score of whores! But now for you, my pet; I have you in my net! And you are mine to sign and seal, so let’s be quick about this and you’ll not be sick for long. Ah! But you will belong to me and only to me for all to see forevermore! Now you’ll be my whore!”

Down went my pants quick as lightening — frightening — and out came blade so precisely made for emasculation with no duration. And I could not help my imagination of the very real possibility of invagination to follow. So would I be forever changed by such deranged and fallen goddess? Oh, but the change I could bear, but ne’er life cast with Bast; I’d already Bast1determined to die, yes, and fly even into the Abyss in order to miss such prolonged torture. How to make such departure, though, elluded me … but, then, I was already deluded into believing hope was long gone.

“Wake up for the gods’ sake!”

Kheba?

“You’re quaking and shaking! Wake up, I say! It’s not even day, but wake up … wake up for my sake!”

Kheba? I bolted up in bed nearly knocking her head, and screamed from the hellish dream! Dream…? Was it just a dream? It didn’t seem so, but…

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Note: First image, “Bastet,”  by Susan Seddon Boulet & Michael Babcock; Second image/photo, “Bast Statue,” found at Isis Books & Gifts  … Also, Please Kindly Consider Visiting J D Noble Publications on FB and “Liking” It.  I Plan on Utilizing This FB Page More Effectively in the Future … For Updates, Inside Info, Short Commentary on Stories and Other Blogs, etc. You Can Find the Icon-Box in the Lower Righthand Corner on This Page! Thank You!