..::The Triple Muse, or the 3 Muses or the Ninefold Muse, or Cerridwen...is originally the Great Goddess in her poetic or incantatory character.
Next, she is courted by the Thunder-god (a rebellious Star-son infected by Eastern patriarchalism) and has twins by him, a male and female -- in Welsh poetry called Merddin and Olwen.
She divides the power of poetic enchantment between her twins, whose symbols are the morning star and the evening star::..
. . . .
..::The legendary origin of Japanese poetry is in an encounter between the Moon Goddess and the Sun God as they walked around the pillar of the world in opposite directions. The Moon Goddess spoke first:
'What joy beyond compare
to see a man so fair!'
The Sun-god was angry that she had spoken out of turn in this unseemly fashion; he told her to return and to come to him again. On this occasion, he spoke first:
'To see a maid so fair --
what joy beyond compare!'
And so this was recorded as the first verse ever composed. In other words, the Sun-god took over control of poetry from the Muse, and pretended that he had originated it -- a lie that did Japanese poets no good at all.)
With that, poetry decays and becomes academic until the Muse chooses to reassert her power in what are called Romantic Revivals::..
. . . .
..::In the English countryside Mary Gipsy was soon identified with the Love Goddess known to the Saxons as 'The May Bride' because of her ancient association with the may tree cult...She paired off with Merddin, by this time Christianized as 'Robin Hood'...also known as 'Robin Goodfellow'::..
Robert Graves
The White Goddess
* * * *
Athena and Jack seemed in accord.
Indeed, although the two had only just met, they were as old friends and fellow conspirators now; and with dual unrelenting rhapsodies, they serenaded Daryl -- expounding the marvelous and many mundane miracles to be found here in Jack's new Timeline.
'Yes, yes,' he conceded at last, 'it does seem to be a great improvement over the last reality we had come to know here...'
'A 'great improvement'!' Athena looked exasperated.
'That is all?! There are no underground Pens For the People here! The very air can be breathed, there is water for drinking -- water, Daryl, that will not poison you at a sip! Yes, I would call that an 'improvement'...' Athena crossed her arms about her and huffed.
Jack studied his uncle silently. What was missing from his utopia here? He gazed out across the verdant fields of green...birds singing as of long ago. People appeared occasionally, strolling together, unencumbered by pain or poverty seemingly. Not many, but a few.
Jack did not really know his uncle well, but, he now seemed more of an enigma than ever.
'Well, there is no rush,' He told Daryl. 'Join us whenever you wish. We'll be here.' He looked at Athena.
'Won't we?'
Athena sighed, shaking her head at Daryl. 'I will be joining you, for one!' She told Jack, then relented somewhat and placed a hand upon Daryl's shoulder. 'You know, mon cher, Anara is no farther or nearer; whether you are here or there, then or when! That much is the same wherever you are...'
Daryl reached up and clasped her hand. Kissed it. 'My only wish is for your happiness, and Jack's as well. Come!' He stepped back, spreading his arms wide. Athena, then Jack, came to him then, and all hugged one another farewell.
. . . .
Samhain Night.
The moon shone full upon the greensward; fire and moon shadows flickered across field and tree as folk strolled and danced about the big bonfire in the glade. Old and new tunes wafted forth from the Bear's Den as the Blackpool Bards presented their paean to the Goddess and welcomed in the New Year, sending long echoes into heaven's bowl of starry eternity above...
Emlyn was leaning upon a wooden table at which sat Shannon and several others, mostly young women and men,
and some children, with Jeanne at the head, expounding upon the evening and the meaning behind it all...
'While the calender would seem to be a solar one, in actuality,' Jeanne raised a white hand high, 'it is ruled by the White Moon-Goddess, whose sacred number is thirteen, as there are 13 moons. However, it is the fifteenth day upon which each lunation falls.
'Fifteen is a multiple of three and five; the triple aspect of the Goddess...' Jeanne smiled as she wove crowns of ivy, wild oats, eucalyptus and wildflowers, and set them upon the children's heads to their delight.
Em smiled and slowly drew away, off into the night...as she circled the bonfire, the songs of the bards grew softer in the darkness:
'Cunning and art he did not lack
But, aye, her whistle would fetch him back...'
Although it had been a fine evening and, for once, a celebration without the usual drama and discord, Em found herself seeking something that seemed lacking still...
Oh, she certainly did not miss the pain and anxiety of the usual mishaps she had experienced of late, and she was now certain that she was safe from Gydion's machinations...but, she felt oddly empty somehow, although she had feasted, danced and celebrated the holiday along with her friends, unimpeded.
She strolled along the ring-path that lined the greensward circling the park central to the town. It was light enough, with the full shining moon's silver light and the golden glow of the big bonfire which illumined the area about.
She did notice, however, some couples who had effectively located some shadowy shelter about the pine, oak and big granite boulders which dotted the green.
Ah, she inhaled the seductive scent of roastings and wood fires, crushed pine needles and wild grapes gone to raisins on the breeze...
Just then, an odd shining caught her eye in the distance, and she turned her foot in that direction to ascertain what it could be; it would seem a reflection of the fire and moonlight against a curved surface somewhere...
It was. A tall person stepped forth from the pile of stones ahead and reaching up, removed the silver helmet from his head.
The Knight.
Her Knight...
. . . .
Was this all he needed? Daryl bit his lip as he swung about the chessboard foyer, surveying the two small bags he had deigned to carry with him. Yes, it was good as anything, for now, he told himself, running a hand through his unruly locks, gone quite dark and longish. The grandfather clock in the parlor began to chime midnight...
'Samhain's end...and the New Year begins...' Daryl murmured to himself, as he gazed about once more.
But no. Why drag it out? There was nothing for him here, not anymore...
''Time For This One, To Come Home...,'' he told himself, mustering a heartiness he hardly felt, as he shouldered both leather satchels and, one hand pointing to the earth, the other to the sky, began to turn in a circle, until he was lost from sight.
. . . .
The grandfather clock in the parlor at Nob Hill House had just chimed it's last, as Daryl spun himself to a stop in the hallway there and set down his bags.
'Perfect timing, old thing,' he congratulated himself, as he reached into his vest pocket and striking a match, went to the parlor and began lighting candles; a hold-over from the days when Emlyn was there, who had preferred their soft glow to 'harsh' electricity.
As he lighted the pair of tall sticks which flanked the mantle piece, he set them back on either side of the large portrait of Anara which held center stage.
Daryl studied that face, which he knew as well as his own, and was the largest mystery he'd ever known. Was she any more real than this inanimate image? Certainly not lately, he acknowledged, sighing.
He had become so used to the painting that he really didn't even see it anymore. He had, somewhat, given up, without really admitting it to himself.
He didn't wish to admit that he'd been left alone. By Anara...and now, Emlyn, and Jack and Athena as well.
Basta. Enough of that.
Daryl did what he was past master at then: the art of denial.
He removed his heavy woolen longcoat and hung it in the hallway, then poured himself a brandy and began to build a fire.
That's alright, he told himself...
He knew his own mind after lo, these many long years...as he kindled the small twigs to light, he felt only a familiar sense of satisfaction which overlay the dull ache of losses, old and new.
Being alone wasn't anything new to Daryl. He laughed, and sipped the cognac. Indeed, it was something he'd come to count on. And, oftentimes even long for...
He stood as the fire caught and began to crackle and glow with amber light which reflected upon Daryl's sadly smiling face as he leaned against the mantle piece. He risked another glance at Anara then.
Perhaps it was time to find another piece of artwork for this spot.
Sitting at last in his wing chair nearest the fire, Daryl crossed his boots upon the hearth and began to relax in the warmth and simple companionship of the salamander magic of fire and candle flame.
His ears pricked then, to new noises of approaching hoofbeats, and carriage doors closing, voices calling out goodnights to one another, footsteps approaching, up the front steps, the scrape of key in the door lock...
'Hola, Diego!' Rosa called, Manuel filing in behind her. 'Are you here?'
'Si, Rosa! Come and be warm!' Daryl smiled then, a real smile now. 'How did you know I was here?' He asked, as Rosa and Manuel entered the parlor after divesting themselves of outerware in the hallway.
'Of course you would be here. Where else?' Rosa took off her hat and gloves. She brought a basket of Pan de Muerto to him. 'Fresh tonight!' She uncovered the iced golden globes of delectable aromatic rolls, like ripe love on a summer's day.
'Where else, indeed?' Daryl mused, as he bit into the roll's soft joy.
. . . .
'Milady.' The Knight made a slight bow to Emlyn.
Em hardly knew what to do, or to say. But, manners came first, last and always:
Em dipped a curtsy. 'Milord...'
A small smile touched the corner of the Knight's lips.
'Shall we walk?' He held forth an arm.
Em nodded, all agog, and took him in hand.
The Knight set his helmet behind a boulder, and as they strode forth, Em noted that he was dressed in a simple white shirt and leather breeches, with tall dark boots.
No gleaming mail this time, but he did carry a sword.
He seemed to intuit her thought, for he remarked then, 'I wanted to catch your eye, and for you to recognize me, and so...I brought the helmet. I believe that you do know who I am, yes, Emlyn?' Em could feel his gaze boring into her. And she knew that deep, intimate voice caressing her mind. Still, she could not meet his eyes.
'I, believe I might...' Em attempted. But she was too shy to continue. (What to say? Something like: 'Yes I recall seeing you in my dreams?')
He stopped then, and turned her toward him. The moonlight shone silver on their faces. 'Look at me now. Tell me you know me.'
Emlyn raised her eyes to his. And there, under the lunar light, Em suddenly beheld the sunrise in his eyes...like the dawn, she saw the awakening of dream become reality.
'Oh, yes! I do know you...I have always known you, haven't I?' She reached up to touch his face, then paused. He took her hand, kissed it lightly.
'We don't have much time, but I have much to tell you.'
He gestured before them, and they resumed their moonlight walk.
'You, my dear Emlyn, and I, are twin souls. We have, indeed, always known of one another. We can feel each other, yes? Even when we are apart.'
'We have been much apart. So much apart...' Em grasped his hand in hers.
'Yes...' he conceded. 'I wish that it were not so, but in this lifetime, it must be thus. If I could have, I would have come to you sooner, and more often.'
Emlyn stopped then, and looked at him, her twin soul.
'Why? Why is it thus? Can we not be together now?' Em was weary of shouldering her fate alone.
The Knight touched her face, gently. 'I know it is hard for you, now; on This Side. So much remains hidden here. I know. I remember how it is. But, it is our fate. We are needed...' He gestured at a fallen log along the path. 'Let us sit a moment. I think we've time.'
Emlyn sat beside the Knight, and he took her hand in his. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the heavens before he smiled down at her.
'Someday, we will be together. Not here, but on the Other Side. In this lifetime, however, it is our fate to remain apart. We each, in our own time and place, have similar but separate work to do. Important work. And, it is the work we have chosen to do now.'
'What work is this? Why is it so important? And why us?' Emlyn hadn't a clue. 'You must tell me!'
The Knight looked hard into Em's gaze. 'You truly do not know? Haven't you felt, your entire life, that there was something you needed to do? That the life so frantically lived by others was not the one for you?
That time spent making money or searching for a marriage-mate, was not what you wanted in life? But something more?'
'Yes, yes of course, but...' Emlyn paused. She had felt this way, it was true, however... 'but, I had hoped I would not always, be on my own, I suppose...'
The Knight sighed, and gathered Em into his embrace.
Oh...
Emlyn suddenly felt as though a warm woolen cloak of comfort were draped all about her, soothing her with a mantle of peace...as though, in all her 20-some years, she finally could relax, and someone would let her relax, and even were she to fall...
Em was suddenly brought back to herself when she heard
the rustle of bushes nearby, and a raccoon showed his bandit face before he bustled off about his business.
They sat back, and the Knight continued:
'I would that it were not so, but we are on our own in this lifetime. That is part of the quest, cher...
We are meant to rely upon our own wiles and efforts this time. I can only tell you that I am thinking of you always, and that I lend you strength whenever I can. Also, if ever you really have need of me, I will be there.'
Emlyn was not happy or reassured by this. It was her fate to be alone, this was what she was being told. No, this did not really help her much...
'But, we are twin souls, you say? But, we are fated to be apart? And what is our quest?'
'We are only apart for the nonce. You have time constraints only on your Side. There is no time, where I reside. It is but the blink of an eye to me, a lifetime. But, I know, an eternity for you. If it makes you feel any better, I have been in your place before, waiting for you, and I did not like it much better...'
He placed a soft kiss upon her hair.
'You have been taught well by our Messenger though.
Through him, you have an introduction to the quest. You
know something of your origins...and therefore, mine.'
'Tell me!' Emlyn never wanted for this night to end. At last, she was with her Significant Other, and he was disclosing all at last, oh, let this Knight not end!
'Well, you have heard tales of those miraculous creatures and such who came of virgin births, or whose father was a star, or a merman, or stories of children who had two fathers, for instance...
'Or of those Keltic island tales of fey lads or lasses whose mother was of the selkie tribes? Once their mother reclaimed her skin from the man who had stolen her away from her water clan, she was off back into the sea, never to be seen or heard from again.
'In Japan, this is also the story of the tennyo; which is
something like the tale of the Swan Maiden. A celestial maiden comes visiting the earth to bathe in a sacred pool. She disrobes, and her heavenly robe, the hagoromo, is taken by a young man wandering by. Without her robes, she is unable to fly back to the heavens. She stays with the man, has children. Again, one of her children tells her where her robes have been hidden. Once she retrieves them, and is again wearing her celestial robes, she flies back into the heavens, which is her true home.'
For a moment, Emlyn sees within her mind's eye, a tableau of a young Samurai warrior, and a beautiful Japanese girl with long flowing black hair like a raven's wing, her cloak of tourqoise and golden threads shimmering in the sunlight...
The Knight looks at her, and smiles.
'We are, you and I, of such a clan. We are sometimes called 'The Good Company' or 'The Graal Company.'
'Who are you, then? Have you a name, at least?'
The Knight fixed his dark gaze upon her. 'You may call me Merlin.'
. . . .
WATCH AND LISTEN: Knights in White Satin - Moody Blues
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjUqfRrWwcM
