Reaching Heavens beyond Heavens, these are not the extremities of the Universes. Between point and point these are not the voids of all knowledge, yet to the Spaces within Space and the Formed whole beyond Space, these reach near to the Perfect Heart of Love – yet come no closer than a Goat to a Pyramid.
Shall Searchers and Seekers be pleased that they know a little about the Whole, or presuming they know all of the Whole, which can be but little?
Sore are my days of wandering and dreaming; heavy are my hours with Time known, for time has the fragrance of Eternity, yet it has escaped into its own shortcomings – for all creatures who know Time, know nothing.
Let me then know not time, so that I might search a little closer to the Light. Grave valleys, foul fiends haunt the lower regions of Timelessness, closest to this Earth. Beyond are the parallels of elevated Normality, where even the speck of desert-wind-borne dust tells all its secrets. Beyond this the image of water rises clear for me, then onto Fire like a burning bush – for Air replaces this, and all elements become grounded and intertwisted with an Earth as yet unknown, beyond the reach of this Earth’s denizens. And still only a fraction of nothingness’ only a second of a second has whispered, then seeming stopped.
Beyond these Liturgies of Elements – what next?
The Hum of atoms and stars, the whistling of unseen seas, beyond the colours of the rainbow, tinselled with sapphires, running wet with red emeralds, crystal clear and dark as pearls – is all this gemset Heaven? Here music is born and song is the speech of angelic beings, light moss and old marble temples – dancing figures move and weave. All those who have progressed from ageless Time; here they haunt and roam and find their homes, for they live in a grain of dust.
Then on to the colour of Saffron where the Buddha lies, with words formed and being still – bespeak of all miracles and trivialities. All wonders with these Temples of Grace! Are they not fairer than all Man knows, or even Angels? And yet ’tis still an age when there should be no age. How devoid are we, how can we search, do we know the limits of our Mortality? Can we guess, and shall we ever reach on to the Nucleus of our heads’ crowning glories, still knowing it is perfection, yet not an inch near Divinity?
To Go Beyond the Frontiers of Time
Beyond the lands of dream divisions, beyond the scope of memory revoked, beyond the recorded heritages of nations, beyond the light of stars, lies the frontier of Time. Time transposed, so quiet it becomes a lake – then, shrinking, this lake becomes a small stream; then, from a small stream, it becomes a bubble laden with air; then one is beyond Time. Time is an abstract device formed by the heralding armies of the Sons of the Stars. To guide and guard Man they laid down decrees – in some ages Time was a rigid thing, in others much freer.
But that time was a necessary device will be explained: As you erect a fence to stop the offspring of cattle falling into a ravine, so the bounds of this limitation were set upon Man. As its Mother Religions were formed, yet mostly this served as but a blind cow that might unwittingly take its offspring to the ravine, and then jump in with it. So religions decreased, and shall do so until there is no religion except that of Man within Brother Man. This is the Truth.
Beauty, shaded by butterfly wings, takes on the semblance of stone arms when the Ungodly look upon her. But when Man with Man as Man looks upon her, then the gauzy film drops away until untold splendours show themselves. But time likewise guards Beauty, so that in some ages she sleeps and in others becomes abundant. She will not show herself in her entirety until Man becomes Man as Man with Man.
Joy Sheridan