I encountered a Star Queen. Yes, a Star Queen. Right out of Tolkien (Oh Elbereth Gilthoniel). Not quite Varda, but perhaps her creation: The Evenstar of Middle Earth. Here: The evening star of our Later Earth: Venus. I was mesmerized; never knew quite what to do.
She asked if I'd write an Ode to a Star Queen. I took up the challenge. It started something like this:
withmyrustylampdoitakewildstabsintothedarkofnight,
hopingtocatchaglimpseofafleetingformofbeautyandnobility,
andamwhollytakenabackwhenthelampsoilluminates.
anchoosefromapersonalarmoryahostofweapons
frombattlesfoughtonothershoresinothertimes
thathavenothingwhatsoevertodo
withthefieldonwhichinowfindmyself.
toolsandtransitsandmeasuresandbooks
ofnumbersandshapesandtacticsandscores
alloftheminmindrationallycomposed
orderedandplacedanddefinedfortheiruses.
buttheseitosstothegorund
andwatchthemmeltintothefirmament
leavingmestandnakedofmeans
nowinnocentandemptyandutterlyexposed.
All of my behaviors were utterly amiss. Nothing ever worked out right. My soul was shredded with every attempt at communication.
He dug and he shovelled
moving masses of detritus
around as if they mattered
making mountains of noise
he stops and examines
with a new lantern
and sees the dreck anew
wondering what he was doing
But from this pit he puzzles now
to seek a way out with honor
if such a path exists
for he sees it not.
He turns, instead, to she who watches
and asks her to point the way
if such a path exists
that she will honor.
In a moment of weakness, I tried to seduce the Star Queen. Silly me. Opening myself to the salty tears of the soul, I wrote three paragraphs:
Truth be told: I had no idea what it meant either! But I do now.
So I finally admitted my ignorance.
Neither do I,
Oh Star Queen,
Know what it means.
Any of it.
It comes, it goes;
It flows out to see:
What is there?
Why is it there?
And where do I begin,
and you end,
if there are beginnings
or endings
that wrap
the
in
be
tween.
What I didn't know for quite a long time was that the cracks between the worlds had opened. Of those three paragraphs, I came to understand some of it: The first was indicative of the awakening of the soul, for the soul speaks in such poetics. The second was a first glimmer of Atria that slipt in through the crack between worlds. The third answers a great secret. Sorry - I must keep that one line redacted until the proper time comes -- it bespeaks the central element of the twelfth volume of the cycle.
The Star Queen led me into a tunnel. Metaphorically, of course. As much as I wanted to get through, I instead got lost in the darkness of that tunnel, and was surroundered by demons that wrestled me to the ground. I lay there, unable to move. And nothing happened for a long, long time - except for my tortued struggles with jailors of my own devising. And even though K’me K’ea arrived and I've been writing the tale of Ahmenar for over a year, a part of me remained in that tunnel, lost, trying to find my way out -- a way with honor. Somehow I was led down deep passages to twisted interiors where I was chained to the Inferno of my own being: No diabolical tormentor could devise a more perfect torture. And so it was.
Nearly two years and six months to the day since I first encountered “her,” I had the audacity to presume that I was ready to reach out and touch the Star Queen. Boy did I ever get burned. I guess one's not supposed to touch a Star. The shock sent me into the deepest tail-spin of my life. But like a defribilator hit, it woke me -- fully. I ripped free of the chains that tied me in the subterranean depths and found my way to the tunnel, and the light, and walked out. I was dizzy and disoriented and suffering from malnutrition, but I was out. And so here I am, commited now, fully, finally, to working with KK to bring the story of Ahmenar to light -- to pull the story through its own metaphorical dark tunnel and give it expression in this world, all by the light of a Star.
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