Tuesday, February 24, 2015

EMBLEM OF THE DUST



EMBLEM OF THE DUST
Erle Frayne Argonza / Ra

I am but the emblem of the dust
Blown smoothly away by the wind.

Born from out of the dust
Where rests the cosmic elements
Over a century known in all;
Nurtured within the womb of Terra
Mother of all Mothers;
Delivered as seed by Firmament’s demiurgos
The ultima pater noster;
So was I born, a dust.

Chartered was my life through sojourns
By my Self
Betwixt worlds
Of shadows and sunlit dales
I the dust, I the crafter.
Molded was I so exquisitely humane
Betwixt cast of the hardest metals
Harder than Bernardo Carpio’s will
Was I nurtured out extruded
I am my own furnace, my dust I am.

Founded was I a warrior
Crafted in the trade of the blade
Whose countenance is blanketed with Courage
A most scarce diadem;
Bear I the Will to thrust the majestic sword
Unto the fleshy morsels of obstacles
Conceived by Existence, Uncertainty, Death
That I rise, am I arisen
I a dust, yet a Warrior.

Blown forth am I the dust
Blown forth by my own Will
Astride winds sunbeams waters
Ne’er fixed and transfixed neither
By mischievous forces of diabolical climes
Now dust am I, my Will wind
‘Tis my starship to galactic
Worlds of humans.

What has come to pass in my biographic trails?
My Past and Future, of what constructs made of?
They I’ve myself made
I the baker who’s always been attending
To chores of my oven’s commands
I’ve had my whereabouts made
Even as Future and Past cancel out
In the nothingness of the Omnipresent Present:
Time is but non-Time altogether
A leaf that has crumpled in its own face
‘Tis but a premise of one who’s never lived
So is it a pest that distracts awhile
And later fornicates in its death traps.
What’s the most illustriously true
But that I the dust was ever present
In time as time to me was spent a-non
I therefore live forever.

I’d gazed at the celestial mirror
And glanced at Eternal Thou
Or was it? Eternal Thou? What’s it?
A chimera derived from my own image?
An extract from the prurient I?
Or is it the whole Kosmos focused
In the magnificent galactic lens so said?
O! Kosmos! O! Nature! You are Eternal!
Am I Thou?
Please whisper the answer softly
In my ear
Amid the hypnotic melodies
Of the celestial music…
I so earnestly await thy response!

Wherefore the dust shall have gone forth
In the tapestries and gourdian knots of Nature
To be a part of and yet not
Of elements among whom it had immersed
As the Ego does to the countless Alters
It “Is” now and yet “Is Not”
A concrete now and yet a phantom as well
The moving and the rested wedded together
It is, it is such, it is
For and only for it to scale altitudes
To where it fuses with the bounds of its source
It is the changeling, the changeling
That dons the matterly cloak: the Kosmos
Of which it Is:
The Iota and the Whole are One.
Henceforth shall it have known
The All and the Self
Finale regal of its sacred mission.

That I am: the dust
Caringly blown away by the wind.

[Writ. 19 Feb. ‘92, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

REFLECTION
Another poetic piece of mine that is deeply steeped in mysticism or the esoteric. I was already a practicing yogi at this time, already mentoring seekers for some years when I wrote this piece. It speaks of couples of core universal principles, inclusive of the Law of One. It reveals the Parabrahman (the All) and the subtle notion of Oversoul.
There is more to say about the matter, but I’d as a guru prefer to leave the archetypal and esoteric items in the poem to be unlocked by the seekers and mystics themselves. A guru must always leave some space for seekers to genuflect and meditate about rather than spoon feed them with floods of knowledge and truths.

As a matter of personal revelation, in case that I would exit physically, I wish the first lines of the poem to serve as my elegy. Humility and magnanimity are of utmost import to any Aspirant, which I strongly stressed in this poem.


Ra

April 2011

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

PINATUBO MOUNT OF TRIUMPH



PINATUBO MOUNT OF TRIUMPH
Erle Frayne Argonza / Ra

Petrified is our inglorious state as people
Crystallized, our hopelessness and shame
We are but loathsome slaves on Planet Earth
Unfit as subject of a stately epic.

A nation of sleepwalkers we are, unblessed
An utterly coveted and sick people of Asia
Wantonly plundered by gluttonous alien Titans
And so too by local lords of similar mold.

Need we rise up from the mortified doldrums
To get back to the folds of Rizal’s grand era
To regain the trust in self built by Bonifacio
To foster again the sublimest nationhood.

Come forth, Pinatubo!
Thunder our valleys and hills
With your majestic voice
On the day of our national freedom!
You are the longed for herald of Apocalypse
Of our dim and stinking state.
Burn down the Sodoms and Gomorrahs of ours!
Demonic icons of imperial lust.
Bury the putrid old world with pyroclastics!
We shall regale the burial with wondrous dirges.

Why ought we wish you with infinite praises?
Why not indeed when you sprinkled vast lands
With ashes: mark of holiness a la Ash Wednesday?
O! majestic mount! You’ve heralded
Soon shall arise a glorious nation in our midst.
The holocaustal tapestry you’ve evoked
‘Tis but the birth pangs of greatness.
This nation, a Sun that others seek for Light
Undying—of justices, wisdom, compassion.

Hail! Sacred Pinatubo Mount of Triumph!

[Writ. 21 June 91, Cubao,Quezon City, M.Manila]

REFLECTION
Mt Pinatubo is still remembered for its powerful eruption that spread ashes encircling the globe, thus bringing down global temperature by 1 degree Celsius. Located in central Luzon, Philippines, it was dormant for centuries, and then violently erupted in June of 1991 as we were celebrating Independence Day.

Prior to Pinatubo’s famed eruption, talks were already on-going in the Philippine Senate to abrogate the Military Bases Agreement or MBA, thus signaling American troops to leave the country. Stubbornly cajoling the executive department with carrots of aid, the US government did what it can to extend the MBA that was expiring by 1991. Pinatubo suddenly erupted, compelling Americans in the Subic naval base and Clark airbase to scamper for safety in Manila.

Pinatubo changed the equation of the US bases here. By scampering away for safety, wherefore they left so hurriedly they were still wearing pyjamas and home clothes upon departure, observers became suspicious that nuclear missiles silos were erected surreptitiously by the Americans underneath the bases area. The Americans could have been so scared to hell, they forecast greater hell had Pinatubo’s pyroclastics and magma wrought havoc on the underground silos.

That eruption event, and the yearly pyroclastic outflow that accompanied flooding in wide swaths of geography, provided a slap to the Anglo-Saxon elites, whom we know now as Reptilians in disguise. Pinatubo’s eruption also provided an opportunity for relief operators to perfect their craft, which made them stand out in the world as they are regarded today as consultants and trainors for other country’s own relief specialists and volunteers. Enterprising craftsmen made export-quality d├ęcor items out of solidified pyroclastic materials.  

Being a mount, Pinatubo is a natural energy spot like other mountains. It stands today as a wonderful tourist spot, with a beautiful resort ready to serve eco-tourists at its foot. Meditation groups can always go up there anytime to recharge themselves in its regenerative energies.

Ra

April 2011

Thursday, February 5, 2015

THE PROMISE



THE PROMISE
Erle Frayne Argonza / Ra
I
Rise up, Man! Rise up!
Your commonwealth’s history had been astride
The cosmic pendulum that had darted
From yon up. Pendulum has reached dead center
And again is rising beyond the dale of time.
The center was lodged betwixt camel and palm tree.

Reckon, reckon that the East calls
‘Twain the valley of time expectant.
Respond shall the camel benignly
And twill change hands with the carabao.

Snail paced is this beast the carabao
And so is your ascent, o! Man!
To the pinnacle of your godly, godly zen.
You shall be god, your being’s made
By you a living clay molded
Millions of times by your own hands.
II
Man! The Light has come forth
In dazzling photons it fused with seawaves
And fluvial ripples. Gracefully had
It landed, guided by a dozen eagles.

Shine brightly shall the Light
Sky beacon that illuminates eagerness
The clear landscape of the Promise.
The Promise has been slumbering in a bed
Of coal and gold: ‘tis coal and gold.

The Light shall burn the coal
To be fed into the waiting furnace
Where the gold shall be molded into one
Magnificent icon as tall as the azure sky.
‘Tis the longed for icon that shall herald
The historic swing to grandeur’s height.
III
Wherefore lies the heart of grandeur?
Wert this not but a dead man’s wish
Long buried in the hovels of the earth?
Wert this not but a sweetened piece
Of bitter gourd: its stinging taste betrays
Its endless senselessness in the world sensical?

Man! This height of grandeur is the state
Indescribable to the wisest among grandfathers
A million generations stretch: ‘tis a million
Times a million times of pure majestic luster
Only but Inner Selves can comprehend.

‘tis the founded form-being of all
Sublime inner selves that have been struggling
In putrescent marshes of history.
This to the grandfathers is mere dream
Induced by the spirit elixirs of Bacchus.
IV
Rise! Rise it shall
High above the hills and valleys
‘Twards the azure firmaments
This majestic commonwealth of yours, o! Man!
For which freedom-in-life is
A concluded spell of benevolent magis.
Reside shall its spirit in people’s bosoms.

Gone shall be the seismic struggles
Alone for bread as if this were the most
Valued diadem atop the zenith of greatness:
The world shall be its own bread
And man, the luminary figure at last
Whose coming was pronounced before
By a trillion bards of eagles and doves.

Rise! Rise it shall
From where corals had made lands
Where sturdy races have eked out living
And slave they were for others;
No more are they slaves but are free cranes
Atop carabaos their benign carriers.
V
What is reality after all o! Man!
For which you have buried yourself
Millions of times in search for its enigmas?
Is it like spiral moving poles a-clashing?
Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe
‘Tis a swarm of flies that swats
Made festive killings by the dozens
And yet aren’t flies but gems.

When upon each gem Light gently touches
It brings forth radiance to all
Corners of the cosmos: it makes bounds
Anon betwixt its grounded state
And the unbrimmed infinite extent
Apast spaces: ‘tis unbrimmed space
And yet spaceless brims.
VI
Man! A promise made a million times
And delivered a million times makes a million
More than its primeval state: ‘ts a grain
Of sand and the universe made one.
The sea has recognized this secret lore
And had sung it lyrically in melodious tunes
That no one cared to listen to

Save for man-slaves on a dozen mountains.
Mushroom-eaters they are who’d sensed
What the real is: the Promise realized overboard
Its primordial state—a giant that wakes up
From zillions of earth revolutions or slumber:
‘Ti a Being stronger than ever that turns rivers
Into founts of gold, cause for merriment
Atop the nature-world the bed of bread.

VII
Happy, o! happy will be
The suns and stars and moons
And winds and waves

Over your final dawning, o! Man!
Even as the day starts on the sixth hour.

Man! You are the sixth estate:
Risen and made one, freed at last
From tsunamis of disintegrating forces.

Behold! No more forlorn are nature and cosmos
The citadels of true life.
And you, Man, finally regained, revived,
Realized as your guardian and maker.
[Writ. 22 July 1991, Cubao, Quezon City, M.Manila]

REFLECTION
This poem—with 7 parts—is largely about the New Age of Light. Writ in very highly archetypal language, it is among those pieces that fit the minds of seekers who love puzzles, notably the wiz kid types. It was written akin to Goethe’s epic, whose master piece of literature was actually a literature of cosmic awakening and the risks that can happen along the way.
The piece prophecies the coming of the new race of Aquarians or Meruvians, the 6th ‘root race’ identified by HP Blavatsky. The Aquarians will replace the Aryan stocks that now abound, with the chief prototype ethnicities emerging in the Pacific land masses that will emerge after the post-2012 ascension. A chohan of the Great White Brotherhood was already designated as manu or ‘great leader’ of that forthcoming race.
As for the other archetypes, I’d leave this to the concerned seekers and mystics to think about. To give you hints for instance, ‘camel’ signifies the Western hemisphere, while ‘carabao’ signifies the East. I’d leave the rest for you to reflect or meditate on.
Ra

April 2011