Wednesday, 6 July 2011
A candle For Roy.
Thoughts both fair and foul dance among the shadows of my mind, a reflection upon the soul of the candle's flickering light and to the purpose of that for which it was set to flight. From within hollow eyes I see fire and flame, radiant wisdom that more than forty years ago departed for another land.
Yet, to walk within his shadow, to glimpse the beauty he has seen, one man with such perfect vision, is privilege beyond recognition, to know and to love a soul that I am knowingly yet to encounter within this life, brings strength, family and knowledge far greater than I could have dreamed possible.
The hand that stretched forth to draw this lost soul from those dark places, realms that once walked no spirit would ever wish to return to, the words upon the page that say little save to those who can hear the whisper "you know me, we are blood you and I, patterns cut from the same cloth, her cloth, woven upon the loom by the three", to those who would hear those precious words he is everything, those simple works contain far more to one who would have the sight to see and the ear to listen, there are no secrets to such as these.
In the bright light of day, the candle's light appears far more subdued, yet it's purpose is still far brighter, mixed emotions, joy and sadness are played with brush and colour upon canvas white, a meditation that manifests itself seemingly in but two dimensions, the others hidden from plain sight, yet perfectly visible to another of the blood, this merry dance, this funeral march, the silent echo of one mans mark that paints the soul all shades of light, bringing illumination within chthonic thoughts, gnosis from chaos and wisdom out of confusion.
The table is set for honoured guest, although four places within the square, one can only hear the beat of three hearts, a toast to our absent friend, a meal is shared with beloved kin and absent heart. The silent supper of the witches, far more than the petty stories of lust and betrothal that persist within the realm of folklore, a perfect way to reach beyond the veil and honour those that have passed through the same.
I stare intently at the scene, over the shoulder of one who would acquire knowledge by the light of a candle, black hoods obscure the congregation and the pace of the mill is slow, resplendent he enters, white bone gleaming from within this darkness a hand of fealty and friendship is offered to all, united in purpose beneath horns of wood and horns born of bone, joined in blood and vision, the family is together again, past, present and future, this world I see does not obey the petty restrictions of time as we see it, it stretches far beyond that which we can perceive within the here and now, there is pain and joy, heart and thorn, all is as it was meant to be.
The sky is clear, I stand beneath the ploughman and his plough, words as yet unknown to many I read to the sky, upon the wind they shall travel far, reaching the minds of others who would perform this vigil upon this night, as time within our own world would sound twelve bells, the candle is extinguished, its light to forever burn within the green fire of my own soul.
To know and remember, all blessings to you Roy, and to all those who carry your flame that we may all bath within its light, and thank you.
Dedicated to Roy Bowers 1931-1966
Flags ,Flax and Fodder. Tony Macleod.
Thoughts from Roy's own hearth as it has grown and blossomed- Clan of Tubal Cain blog