Chapter 19, Lunar Spirit
Shirley could not get comfortable, the baby was due any day and she had not seen Eagle Flying Bye for a few moons. She was feverish, falling in and out of awareness, dreaming, entering different dimensions between dreams and death....
As the shallow breath of life diminished, her perception became acquainted with the consciousness of Death which came more and more to fill the vast empty chambers and rebuilt temples of her mind. To whisper their familiar secrets, to stare at her from hollow skulls or gaze with her at the endless vistas beyond this system of Satania, glimpsed between columns of variegated marble stained pink with the eternally setting sun: oceans of fire-kissed opal over which troops of delicate wood sprites dance; forests of violet and crimson-leaved trees, their canopies alive swarming with iridescent winged creatures, dragonflies, butterflies and glowworms, emitting and transmitting mysterious signals to bedazzled or hypnotized constellations.
And so she drifted in and out of imaginary worlds, down cerulean hued rivers on ships of trumpeter-winged preternatural Barguest, with sails of billowing moonlight, then on to ebony funeral pyres bearing high and low-borne corpses to Centaurus, Orion and the Pleiades, their lifeless shells wreathed in thick incense, opulent lotus petals and apple blossoms trailing in their wake. She sailed on translucent sleighs of starlight, pulled by nebulous-haired djinns of deep space, she witnessed the hulls of collapsed planets and moons, formed of the burnt-out husks of binary stars, on the backs of great China day dragons and the shoulders of celestial beings reflected in vast galaxies, who spread their wings that seemed to span immeasurable gulfs; and pixie fairies encased in a single grain of stardust, as she was transported in the mouths of deities and zygotes, in the belly of Leviathan or the Behemoth, beneath the flickering tongues of ghouls and great invisible apparitions, or carrion eating daemons, she was uncertain whether her mortal body still reclined in some trailer park in some remote wooded forest of Earth, clinging to life by means of the cold washcloth pressed against her forehead at night. She hallucinated between sleep and awake, trying to witness events unfolding around her, and it being summer, a new cycle, the dark room was filled with a grayish mist, which introduced to the atmosphere an hypnotic affect. The room seemed to be moving, fear and dread filled to its very perimeter, until the walls gave way. A voice spoke from behind the darkness, Shirley's shallow breathing quickened.
"Where is the Duad?"
A storm moved slowly across the horizon, thick smoky clouds with five protruding funnels, it closed in on the small room, then disappeared. Three forms converged, appearing
as one ghostly figure, and entered the room. Female, ghastly, but apparently human, moved slowly towards Shirley….
"Where is the Duad?"
They demanded to see a man child. The old Crone reached for an apparition, it became solidified, a boy child...She searched it's tiny body for the mark of Cain, but there was none to be found.
The three who appeared as one, called themselves,
Norn’s. They disappeared into the darkness, emerging
once more as five funnel clouds upon the water. Two men were in a fishing boat; the funnels lifted the tiny craft out of the water and sent it reeling to a place called Oannes, 19-66.
The men awoke and found themselves walking along a shoreline. The summer sun beat upon their bare heads and red shoulders. Around them, people wandered, milling about and looking awkward like the past - zombies, stark and mindless. The two men scrambled to escape from Oannes 19-66. They trudged through the hot sand of the beach, over dunes with withered sea oats, past the rotting carcasses of dogfish and snails until they spied their boat floating at anchor near the shore. They jumped into it, hoping to make a getaway... Suddenly the sky darkened once more, the water began to swirl around, churning and rocking the boat to and fro.
It pulled the craft upwards into an inverted whirlpool.
Inside, they could see creatures, in many indistinct forms, floating in the waters around the boat, half man, and half fish, horrible, wretched, woe begotten creatures. They moved upwards inside the whirlpool towards a distant light. It was a light enclosed in a shadow, far far away. They slowly circled towards it......finally, they realized it was the moon, in all of its fullness, appearing as Demeter and giving birth. A form fell from the moon, into the swirling waters, half man, half fish, it swam to the Fishermen's boat and flopped upon the deck.
"Duad!" Resounded the cry from above. The Norn’s approached the boat with a lightening rod, speaking from behind the dark thunder.
"Where is the Duad?"
The Storm moved slowly across the horizon, just above the waters, thick smoky clouds with five protruding funnels, it entered the swirl. The fish-man jumped from the boat into the water. The funnel clouds chased him feverishly, and then shot lightning bolts upon his scaly back, hitting him in the head, his throat and his bowels.
Dead, the fish-man sank into the deep abyss. A tear rolled down the face of the waning moon. One tiny drop, it fell into the sea and plunged into the whirlpool, down, down, down, the teardrop fell, swirling amongst the admixed living and dead until it reached the point of the whirlpool. Instantaneously the water broke. There was a showering of blood below, then the child fell downward and out from her, onto the soaked straw mat. She carefully cut the long cord with a sharp arrowhead, wrapped the child into a colorful blanket, and then went to lay before the fire with him. He was beautiful this child with obsidian eyes and thick swatch of the whitest hair! The small licking fire danced off his bronze skin, and the cheeks of the child were full as those of a child born in summer when the forests are thick with game, and corn ripens on the stalk....She cried, the babe was born, July 4, 2007, to the sound of liberty, unlike any man-child she had seen before.
There were things she still wanted to do. For this reason, when she heard her ancestors calling out to her she paid the ghostly voices no mind. "Dancing Feather," they whispered into the biting wind. "Wife of Eagle Flying bye, your time has now arrived."
"Not yet," She pleaded, a vast white globe of luminosity rising in her mind, filling her vision with splendor. She sensed but tried to ignore the entrance gate to Heaven as she laid in fever in the ruin of her body in the tiny shack she dimly remembers as being her home in this mortal world.
Still, she was not yet ready to meet the Great Spirit, Wakan Tanka, by the Devil’s lake, though the wind whistling through the trailer park that howled across the water’s edge told her it was indeed her time.
As the brightness of the mysterious realm of heaven and the impenetrable darkness of the ultimate pit inexplicably and enigmatically become One, merging yet retaining their mutually exclusive and antagonistic natures, there could be felt the slightest brush of exquisite satin flesh against her bosom, and the pressure of a tiny hand in hers - the familiar, overwhelming, joyous presence of her long awaited newborn son, beside her and forever within her: the delicate scent of his skin and hair, the clear poetry of his breath in her ears, his tiny lips pressed to her bosom, the intimate merging of their breath.....
The man-child was large like his father Eagle Flying Bye. He was much too large for such a small woman to have pushed out alone in her trailer bed. She had hopes that Eagle Flying bye would be back in time, but deep within the bowels of her gut she knew he would not. He had set out to run with the pack, being a wolf walker; it might be many moons before he returned.... Dancing Feather's loins still ached. She grew colder as the wetness of the fresh blood swept a course across her spreading thighs. Like a great river it moved outward and spread beneath her there in the quiet darkness.
That the child would have no mother was a source of great sadness for Shirley, that he would not remember her was too painful a thought to bear. Her fears plagued her. Visions of the child alone until morning only added to her mounting agony. Outside, the groaning voices of the dead wept he
r name upon the boughs of Pine and Ash. Sadly the moon was full, the hour just before midnight. In the midst of growing pain Dancing Feather felt the irresistible pull, but held fast to the child, and to the earth, trying to grasp the coattails of forever. She cupped her hands over the child's ears as if to keep the voices of her long gone relatives out.
She had never prepared herself for this moment. "Glowing Eagle, she whispered, “Pay no attention to those fawning spirits. Your father will come for you."
Then she suckled him at her breast to satiate his newborn hunger. The child smiled after-wards, but by this time, Dancing Feather lay unconscious.
The night was long and soon enough grew into pitch. An Ineffable Beauty and Infernal Night both consumed and devoured Shirley. Her spirit lifted up and borne high upon the flaming arc of eternal desire and eternal repulsion, eternal joy and eternal suffering, eternal separation and eternal unification...
The endless waves of Creation crashed upon her from every conceivable direction, externally and internally........In the cool of this night air, Glowing Eagle tuned his delicate ears to the comforting sounds of the forest, lulled to sleep by the occasional hoot of owls and the cricket’s chirp upon the hearth. The wind died down, the fire grew smaller by degrees, and eventually fell completely away. The warmth around the child faded, and in that total darkness, the child lay quiet at his mother’s breast.
Glowing Eagle heard the winds return to the tranquil lake and the cutting bite of his father’s expectant footsteps growing closer. There was a long period of silence, followed by the sound of a door opening. A long cry of grief echoed through the trailer park. A shrill far too terrifying for the infant's ears. At once, he felt the sure hands of the Medicine man lift him up to the security of his father’s arms.
"Glowing Eagle," a cracked raspy voice whispered, "Son of Dancing Feather."
The Man-child we wish to see
Come daughter of the heavens
Come into my arms and dance
Come into my arms and 1, 2, 3
a waltz of far romance.
For we are called by stars above
to love across the seas,
and birth a soul in depths of love
to build new galaxies.
And as we dance until the dawn
Along the silver sea
In fond embrace; in never place
We dance a 1, 2, 3
The love we share for everywhere
engulfs the human race,
For all the spirits in the air
come sharing our embrace.
How strange man thinks it cannot be
two lovers called to lay
connecting worlds through ecstasy
in fiery love this way.
Two hearts now fused into one soul
one spirit of two zygote dreams
a child of spirit, ever whole
mending tattered cosmic seams.
Formed in Love from heaven’s call
to lead the earth in wisdom’s stream
a soul now seen to serve us all,
our child held in our sacred dreams.
A seed to plant a new wilderness
From two seeds, yours and mine
you are the roots; I am the breast;
To blossom the divine.
And as we rise into that place
in never ever land
and build a cloud in sacred grace
To love and understand
We call all spirits; come into
The arch above End-times
We drink the living waters
Of Love’s Perfect Spirit wine
Birthing the Lucifer star Page 45
