So seldom seen by the sundry peoples,
a total eclipse of Terra’s sun
is an “awesome event,” in all the senses
of that phrase’s morphemes, former and modern.
Recently now, in a rare occurance
with the grandest style, the Great American
Solar Eclipse bisected the country;
from sea to sea the sun went dark.
We know the material and temporal science
of why it occurs, but what beyond
are the higher meanings of this hallowed sight
and its upward opening to the awe of Spirit?
A truth is told by a tale of the lore
of elder times when all was young:
My great pilgrimage gains momentum
in a Honda Civic on a highway turnpike
through a lengthy drive to the land of Michigan
with a particular stop at a travel plaza
for a franchise coffee and a franchise bagel
on the journey there. Just right it must be,
the faring out and its four hundred
Consider a tree, seemingly ordinary,
to learn the model and life of the others:
the tree within and the Tree without.
Of trees we see the trunk and branches
with beautiful leaves and bright flowers:
luscious wonders. But lurking beneath
the soil’s surface are the secret roots
in that darkest realm of deep unknowns,
where mysteries lurk, tremendous Runes.
So, to truly know a tree’s full life,
What are you, really? The walking rudiments
of upward evolution to an Übermensch?
If you’d aim for that goal of ultimate Ascent,
sorting yourself is seriously needful,
to know what you’re not and know what you are.
Runes aplently are realized in the process.
You have a body, but here’s the truth,
Where is Arcadia? What is Arcadia?
These are fair questions for finding answers.
But most important is the message it has.
Forests of Spirit are found in that land.
The trees have deep roots: tall they will grow,
to touch the sky in triumph and Ascent.
Runes aplently are readily grasped;
That’s how he did it, by hanging from a tree,
how Óðinn won the ancient runes.
He challenges us to change our lives
by seeking those mysteries. And so we must,
by hanging also on a hallowed tree.
But what is Yggdrasil, and where might it be,
Freud is famous for phallic tobacco,
though he said at times it’s simply not.
But maybe it’s more than a mass of leaves,
brown and oily as if born from dirt.
Take from the topshelf this tube, for instance.
“Carpe Noctem” is its clever name,