muses

THE 17TH YEAR WAKE

why these intense thoughts all night?

these pains that crucify my body to the cross of half waking

half turning and tossing in a bed that makes me feel like a lamb on spit

roasted by the confusion of a flow of words which make no sense at first

but cause an inner conflict of hard tries to understand the encrypted message

where my body turns into the bell that sounds and sings the ballade of praise and visual images of a body from birth to death? Is this just a stirred-up human experience in pain of one birth, or ist it the fate of a man becoming a priest in the temple of a god he never knew existed/ powers to be that make at first no sense/ other than being an alp of falling into a cave of ice and fire/ in an act of discovery that all life had been just a wandering/ an aimless searching for the truth of oneself – the αναγνωρίστε τον εαυτό σας, or shortened as γνωθι σαντόν, as it is known in general. the poet had foung it written in his diary at the start of the year/ thw wise words of socrates he had placed in greek letters/ since many years he had it placed at the beginning of eaxh year since he had left / like a palimpsest sighpost/ a painting in a cave of his existence/ a pertoglyph/ year for year/ whenever he returned to his place of ancestry? γνωθι σαντόν! now he recalled the proper greek words when he opened his diary of 2021/ where he also came across his sketch of the temple of apollo at delphi: μηδέν αγαν – nothing in excess/ he had to verify his translation on google to see if he was still good with translations in various languages. he had tried hard to recall all german and english words he used to practice with ana in athens. he had learned english in his working years in afrique du sud/ just to forget many words in german/ now as he had recalled many german words in his greowing vocabulary/ he had forgotten many engglisg words he had to revive daily again/ in spite of his spouse’s abusing critique of the way he conducts his lifein art/ not being careful about everyday chores and modes of living together like other couples/ other people considered as the norm. indeed. (yechie!). he stared at his sketch that set the mood for his start of the new year on the first page of his diary. the few remaining columns of ionic order of the temple of apollo/ as mentioned/ with the grand set of mountains behind. the base of the temple with the steps making up the uneven and falling ground/ where he stood once mesmerized/ as if sensing the magic of the place/ flooded with the love of his muse he admired/ loved/ cared for/ fell for. he wrote in his journal then: “zora stood with her at the sacred temple somewhat alone and in a swelling fever he kissed her/ love/ forbidden love/ at best recalled in the story of helen of troy.” this meant that helen was a mirage perhaps/ an invention/ a political trap to have a cause of invading the city of troy and destroy a great cultural establishment/ just for its treasures/ its gold?

when he met mon at her domicile she pointed to a canvas/ on which she had drawn faces of famous people/ faces of her heroes she looked upon as having discovered them as milestones in her life. there it was again after 17 years of his own experience/ it was the 204th month of ana’s passing (17 years since and it still stays with him!) his own milestone in his life/ his greek muse/ ana/ who shaped the future of his life as an artist and poet. has she not confided him that she had been married for 17 years and thus – her sacred number came up – for she had met him/ her artist and budding poet? indeed/ she had bade him farewell from this life he had shared a few years with herwords: who do i send you? he had been in a detriment and rotten despait/ thoughts of suicide crossed his laboured mind. yet he came out of his hopeless state of a loveless existence/ bit by bit/ step by step/ he wrote down his great love/ his holistic love that had pushed him on a wave of sadness and mourning/ grief and anger/ to draw ‘orpheus’ repeatedly – a symbol of great love/ holistic love/ expressed thru’ the art of song and lyrics/ besides the great poems of elytis and ritsos.

now/ after 17 years of missing his milestone at the road-crossing in athens/ he found entry into another temple of the mind and soul. did ana sent him mon as a muse/ mon who cared about art and poetry/mon the woman reminding of earth-mother/ mon who cared about continuing his art and sponsoring the publishing of his books to be printed/ his art to be exhibited?

suddenly he knew deeply inside that she had touched him/ touched his body with her hands/ her lips/ her voluptuous being that surrounded him with her fleshly presence to satisfy his sexual needs/ even for now at the start all in powers of virtual transformation of the mind/ in a transfer of souls/ in a partnership that was blooming. indeed. her greek letters she had painted onto the wall of her heroes and self-depiction: γνωθι σαντόν! HE’LL BE DAMNED!

zoltanzelan

zjg-excerpt from ‘MUSES’ ’21.