ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
… for the Gatherer rose
From the waters of mystery,
And nailed these words
To the door of eternity:
He who forgives a man becomes Christ; and in
Forgiving one, he forgives all mankind,
He nullifies their debt of transgression,
He ceases to punish,
He erases their judgement.
She who lifts up the fallen becomes a parable,
She knows that fate falls with equal ruin
On every Christ and Judas;
And the True Samaritan is she
Who would save a sufferer condemned.
Those who are corrupted are no worse than Adam,
For their pains are equal to his own;
The prick of thorns, the sting of blades,
The bloodwork of wrathful blows, cause
One to suffer no less, no more than another.
Those whose eyes are opened are worthy disciples;
Wickedness ceases to ensnare them,
And the ancient desires of their tongues
Forget the Apple’s mortal taste.
He who calms the Ocean of Man
And his tumultuous rage is Buddha;
He saves the rivermen from drowning;
He delivers the stranded from their isolation;
His mind, in its clarity and calm, is the mantra
And the monk; his voice is a bright
Blue Om in the mouth of wisdom; his
Words become the Dharma.
She who pacifies her neighbor’s enmity
Creates a Sangha; her neighbor
Becomes a polished jewel. For
The parched mouth she is a cool
And melting frost; she is the bed
Of the infirm, and the volition
Of the parting one.
For the soul of Man is Heaven; Hell and Purgatory
Return or flee by man’s command;
A Buddha dwells within our chambers,
One awoken with a peace-filled word;
The radiance of sky, the music of streams,
The dance of leaves in elm or oak or maple,
The cleansing calm of cool winds
Are by man, not nature, created.
And the Earth is the body. It is
Both fire and purification.
The sweetness of her strawberries
Is the cleansing of catharsis.
Anyone who reveals this is a prophet.
My door is open to all the world,
My table set for all who hunger:
This apple ripe and fermented grain,
This scent of wheat and sugared wine
Reveal their taste to equal tongues.
I hear the many: the child's laughter,
The woman's joy, the mirth
Of men and delight of multitudes.
He who shares his wine is Dionysus;
He is fire and reason, like Prometheus;
He is the chariot that delivers
The sun from mortal sleep;
He is a whirlwind that raises
Earthly dust into immortal waters.
Any man who triumphs without vanquishing
Another man is the true believer;
He who triumphs over himself defeats Death;
He who unifies and loves is immortal;
His eyes are Vedas, his lips prayers,
His ears mantras, his tongue a mandala;
The sensations of his body a magical psalm.
Libations pour from him; his mind
Is the manifest of all possible scriptures.
A woman who forgives waters Eden; she is
Architect and dweller; she creates
The house and the garden of compassion;
Her instruments are of Christ and Buddha;
She is a Visionary whose eyes are pure,
Whose visions will not perish, for the sight
Of God transfigures eternally.
And the Gatherer spoke saying: I nail
These words to a prison door.
Another standing near the Gatherer, one
Named Mara, asked him: and shill
The door is shut; how shall it be opened?
The Gatherer:
Man must break the entrance.
From the waters of mystery,
And nailed these words
To the door of eternity:
He who forgives a man becomes Christ; and in
Forgiving one, he forgives all mankind,
He nullifies their debt of transgression,
He ceases to punish,
He erases their judgement.
She who lifts up the fallen becomes a parable,
She knows that fate falls with equal ruin
On every Christ and Judas;
And the True Samaritan is she
Who would save a sufferer condemned.
Those who are corrupted are no worse than Adam,
For their pains are equal to his own;
The prick of thorns, the sting of blades,
The bloodwork of wrathful blows, cause
One to suffer no less, no more than another.
Those whose eyes are opened are worthy disciples;
Wickedness ceases to ensnare them,
And the ancient desires of their tongues
Forget the Apple’s mortal taste.
He who calms the Ocean of Man
And his tumultuous rage is Buddha;
He saves the rivermen from drowning;
He delivers the stranded from their isolation;
His mind, in its clarity and calm, is the mantra
And the monk; his voice is a bright
Blue Om in the mouth of wisdom; his
Words become the Dharma.
She who pacifies her neighbor’s enmity
Creates a Sangha; her neighbor
Becomes a polished jewel. For
The parched mouth she is a cool
And melting frost; she is the bed
Of the infirm, and the volition
Of the parting one.
For the soul of Man is Heaven; Hell and Purgatory
Return or flee by man’s command;
A Buddha dwells within our chambers,
One awoken with a peace-filled word;
The radiance of sky, the music of streams,
The dance of leaves in elm or oak or maple,
The cleansing calm of cool winds
Are by man, not nature, created.
And the Earth is the body. It is
Both fire and purification.
The sweetness of her strawberries
Is the cleansing of catharsis.
Anyone who reveals this is a prophet.
My door is open to all the world,
My table set for all who hunger:
This apple ripe and fermented grain,
This scent of wheat and sugared wine
Reveal their taste to equal tongues.
I hear the many: the child's laughter,
The woman's joy, the mirth
Of men and delight of multitudes.
He who shares his wine is Dionysus;
He is fire and reason, like Prometheus;
He is the chariot that delivers
The sun from mortal sleep;
He is a whirlwind that raises
Earthly dust into immortal waters.
Any man who triumphs without vanquishing
Another man is the true believer;
He who triumphs over himself defeats Death;
He who unifies and loves is immortal;
His eyes are Vedas, his lips prayers,
His ears mantras, his tongue a mandala;
The sensations of his body a magical psalm.
Libations pour from him; his mind
Is the manifest of all possible scriptures.
A woman who forgives waters Eden; she is
Architect and dweller; she creates
The house and the garden of compassion;
Her instruments are of Christ and Buddha;
She is a Visionary whose eyes are pure,
Whose visions will not perish, for the sight
Of God transfigures eternally.
And the Gatherer spoke saying: I nail
These words to a prison door.
Another standing near the Gatherer, one
Named Mara, asked him: and shill
The door is shut; how shall it be opened?
The Gatherer:
Man must break the entrance.
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Written by Frank Jaspers in 2013.
There exists a collection of occulted works called collectively the gnostic gospels. They consist of writings banished from the canonical Bible in ancient times for expressing views that fell outside of church doctrine. Views that were too permissive of women, too mystical, too open to other religious traditions were deemed heretical. In writing this poem I sought to express certain views that I would like to have found in the gospels ... any gospels. The poem does not support any particular religion. Rather it collects its inspiration from religion, and lets all judgements rest.
There exists a collection of occulted works called collectively the gnostic gospels. They consist of writings banished from the canonical Bible in ancient times for expressing views that fell outside of church doctrine. Views that were too permissive of women, too mystical, too open to other religious traditions were deemed heretical. In writing this poem I sought to express certain views that I would like to have found in the gospels ... any gospels. The poem does not support any particular religion. Rather it collects its inspiration from religion, and lets all judgements rest.
© 2015 - 2024 Frank-Jaspers
Comments0
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In