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WAY OF THE SEVEN STARS


Response To That Final Question:

Ignorance is the Bane of Man.
At a distance removed,
Dimly remembered, and
Still not seen distinct,
But yet somehow felt;
What we do sense
Is not reality; is not the Real Thing.
This World is hologram.
Then; for lucid sleep;
For it's just a dream
Within another dream
And we are not awake.

Seven Stars' Song of Revelation

Ignorance is a jail where no escape
Is possible but through knowledge.
Don't fear nor spurn. Dare to learn:

Assent to and accept this world as it is
Before attempting ascent to any world
Aspired to or wished for. Life's glorious!

That That Is can be known but by few.
Not space, not time, not gravity exists;
But as Extension from Field of Thought.

Be subject to neither church nor crown.

Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.

That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
That That Is makes That That's Not BE.

By rowing to That That Is, I become "I."
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
The Heart and The Nave of The Wheel.

Worlds are created from Thought alone.
That which we will do is because of that
What we are. We'll become who we are.

Charity, courtesy, civility, compassion,
Are cardinal spokes making civilization;
Chivalry forms center, hub's circle core.

IS is! Be not the slave of some other's I.
This, Creed of our Seven Stars Society;
This, The Teaching of the Seven Stars:

No man can be happy if he should choose
To be exile from his own nature and soul.
ALL IS THOUGHT ILLUMINATING BEING

Precognitive Prescient Prophetic Poetry by WILLIAM O'CONNOR

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Celebration

In plain occasion, lacking rich celebration,
Silence stammers to a soft-voiced Spring;
Stutter of anticipation, of new beginning.


It brings waking from Winter's deep sleep;
From hibernation of desire, from the coma
Of ambition.  Action is granted a possibility.


A green fecundity forces buds from twigs,
Its sap pushing forth, an emerald stream;
Not content until it lifts its head into a leaf.


Tipped to life, crowding to be hooded born
In bloom, shoots shudder into tumescence;
Brightening of bough, sweating into flower. 

Friday, March 25, 2011

Sown in Suns

The school of night is best studied in a silence,
A curriculum of contemplation, of meditation;
As the thrown rug of heaven is sown in suns
And is woven within a tapestry of spun lights,
A chorus of colors spread in vast assemblies.


Attached by a thin slender thread of gravity,
A justification of arcs and tangents underlies
This plenitude of stars: the hidden equations.


Attend the intercourse of torches of evening,
Of far fairy worlds of blazing incandescence,
In awe; in a quiet, with bold astonished eyes.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Party Politics

A curse and a condemnation befalls them
From the public they were sworn to serve;
Still they continue in the enmity unabated.


So sure are they of their own importance,
They have not noticed their constituents
Long ago deserted and abandoned them.


So they dialog with themselves, a congress
Of gnats; every argument delivered with a 
Smirk, a discourse of banality, of innuendo.


Spit sarcasm sprays small spumes of wit,
Foam topping crashing waves of ridicule;
Pulled under, the currents of anger swirl.


Hatred stalls with it the entire body politic,
Sails the ship-of-state to strand on shoals;
Stranding its passengers on passage home. 

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Origins

The naming of a thing is its beginning;
Its signifying assignment makes it so.


Name thy-Self into existence.  To do so, say:
This now is who I am, and not another; not
Employee of that, nor even follower of this.
Sunder oaths and ties.  Fierce be and bold.


Be not a foolish adherent of a faith.  Nor just
Some resident of such a country.  But be at wild
And at liberty.  State your name; never your
Number.  Break the binding bonds of destiny.


Small men are obeisant and obey the times;
Great men are defiant and make their times.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Colony

We are each planet for others, a colony.
Leaves that fall in Autumn are as mulch
For trees sprouting in the Spring.  White
Water crashing salt-stained rock raises
Mists of flung spray filled with sea lives
Born in waves spun onto sandy shores.


Day unto night and night into day again,
A great sadness overcomes us for them
Gone; weighted presences from our past.
To render to spirits solace for their death,
Whistle cantrips of joy to those departed.
Pipe to vanish by cheerful plangent sound.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Spells

Magician me with such enchantments.
Fine spells spill out from play of music.
Banish misfortune.  Shorten the long
Face of worry. Summer is at canter
In pipe and chanter; the gallop season
Of lemon-pink dawns riding in on song.

WILLIAM O'CONNOR

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