The progression of the year is like a bedevilment of the senses. Leaves dance and spin – the wind will sometimes stand them on their ends and march them down roads or across fields. To my abstract mind there is a burning man lying deep in the earth who commands the season and ensures that the course of time will continue. Trees bow their souls to him while it appears to us they are all but dead.
But this burning man has other functions. He is the principal of initiation who moves human development forward through ordeal. The end of time or times symbolized in the closing of the year – and in the end of an epoch if that is where we stand now – propels a powerful intensity into the future: something which endures, which passes through trial and succeeds. If only human nature could be as awake as the subterranean natural world, which channels initiation to its midnight hour. Alas, human beings will fall prey to outward embodiments of this power instead of developing it in themselves.
For the time being I’m only able to offer the figure of this burning man in abstract form or imagination. He appears to the poetic eye, which is a genuine form of seership. The human being may dream deeply but cannot fall into hibernation. The illumination of darkness must gradually suffuse his or her sleeping hours and carry the season, the year and the epoch forward into new purpose and vitality.
The wind has moaned and hummed
over the silent body of the land,
standing the dead leaves on their ends
and walking them through levelled fields.
There is a burning man inside the earth,
whose rapid thoughts ensure the year goes on.
The trees bow their souls to him -
he leaps up, flaming, where their hearts grow cold.
Times and tempests dull their tunes to his beat,
dream disorders dream in human landscape.
The next full moon to flood the rutted fields
will like as not pledge itself to him.
And yet some miles and miles ago
the world did not yet understand
how its softest colors could melt from sight
then flame again in one man’s burning eyes.
Best wishes, today,
© Landar 2012. All rights reserved
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