Several weeks have passed since the prior post of Song 9: Darkness Rising, so I’ll make a quick transition to this fourth post (one more to go) in this part of the narrative. The main character (MC) has been sent on a “mission” to bilk an old fellow named Hertwig. These two meet and discuss and by the time they leave together, the MC has lost all interest in stealing anything from the old gentleman. In this segment, we continue to follow them to Hertwig’s lodgings where the exchange continues.
as he makes his way through gray city streets
to where, I do not know, and do not care
Some odd force urges me to follow him
to unveil whatever mystery he holds
After a maze of dim streets and alleys
Hertwig stops before a dirt-streaked black door
open to a staircase leading to darkness
and still I follow trudging up the steps
while Hertwig puffs and wheezes, “Almost there.”
At a second door, he fumbles for keys
selects one key and shoves it in the lock
door opens – he invites me to enter
Inside, waves of deep velvet green cover
pedestals and risers and atop each
precious items rest – jewels, silver, rings
amethyst, coins, bronze vessels, ornaments
I think I must be dreaming or the drink
at the tavern contained a grave potion
Hertwig glances at me with half a smile
and says, “Do you like my small collection?”
“Yes,” I say, “but how do you keep it safe?”
“I show to few, and those I do, I kill.”
I take three wild steps backward towards the door
Hertwig belly laughs and slaps my back hard
“Don’t worry. I already know your trust
Your word is worth more than any bauble”
“You can’t know. Our acquaintance is too short”
“Oh, just call it long, rich experience
but come, come, sit and have some tea with me”
He rummages for the pot, tea and cups
while I shake my head completely baffled
by his treasure and by his innocence
This might be a ruse, but he may just be
authentic – someone I would like to know
maybe even learn from like my teacher
Soon, we sit, and sip, and share like old friends
delighting in tales of our adventures
His are lengthy, wide-ranging, abundant
Mine are guarded, short-lived, full of remorse
We both have smooth currents and rougher seas
“How came you to this place?” Hertwig asks me
His words flow out lovely foreign cadence
archaic, royal, kindly, wise, and true
“By chance and folly, and not you’ll guess by
innocence, rather sins and betrayals
Once again, my language mirrors his tongue
I can’t for my life say why this rapid change
Is this witchcraft? Or worse, evil demonic?
I feel carried off on a pristine sea
barely knowing this creature, I call me
He takes me deeper, lacking my consent
“Yes,” he goes on. “There are those who perish
from not seeing what boldly calls for sight
Some even have aversion to the truth
The world’s ablaze with fires of dying light
We are always burning with great desire
And now, to you. What is your one desire?
That prime one that pulls you from place to place?”
I almost fall off my chair reacting
to his astounding question, the same one
I have asked myself from the beginning
I think how to answer rightly, truly
or whether I should answer this at all
and reveal secrets I want kept hidden
With no thought, I blurt out, “I want my boat!”
He lifts his chin and raises his eyebrows
How stupid, I chide and lecture myself
feeling like a child of seven years old
“Ha! So, of all there is, you choose your boat?”
His voice doesn’t hold surprise or judgment
I can’t stop my younger self I despise
“The boat is what I need to sail from here.”
“But what if I am granting you one wish?”
The old man leans in close to me and waits
I fidget under silent scrutiny
With this old one, I dread speaking falsely
A longing springs up from deep unknowing
territory I have not walked before
Hart’s image flickers dark and light without
holding shape or speaking wisdom to me
How should I answer such a bold question?
Suddenly, I relax and feel the truth:
“I seek this ‘one’ that I have never seen”
Unphased, leaning easy into his chair
“You speak of the path that leads to answers”
His demeanor is all patience and glow
His former ugliness has disappeared
He settles farther back, folding his arms
across his barrel chest clothed in black wool
His pause turns to a long exhaled, pale sigh
“So, let us begin with this boat of yours.”
He seems too familiar with my vessel
Again, my thoughts turn to selfish motives
What does he want from me? So far, nothing
“Once you find it, where will you take it then?
Or perhaps, more likely wind and current
will drive your star course and navigation
I can’t stop myself – again – I answer –
“That’s the thing. I cannot even name it.”
“But the answer includes ‘away from here’?”
“Yes! Yes! Of that I’m absolutely sure.”
I say without one clue where that might be
and I see the good folly of my flight
Always away, in hate, from where I am,
never toward some favored destination
As if penetrating my thoughts, he says
“Yet, you spend your life out always leaving
where you once were, only to run again.”
“Yes, Chickopee is where I was true born”
That name sticks to my tongue like rancid butter
“And that alone means it is not the place?”
“Well, yes. Of course not. How could it be so?”
“I ask, in turn, how you know it is not?”
“I just know. That’s all. That much is quite clear.”
“Then, next you must ask how you’ll know once there –
that place you run so intensely to reach
Perhaps you are already there and can’t
see that because your history darkens it”
I say no more. I have no more to say
I’m wounded by his dart of spoken truth
Answers to these questions are a mystery
Away! Away! Flight! Weigh anchor and sail!
Of these, I’m sure to the center of my bones
but my certainty provides no compass
I look up at Hertwig, who smiles tenderly
Anger and shame lie entwined in my throat
“It’s all right,” he says. You came this far
to be able to see what you see now
“Perhaps,” I admit. But what to do now?”
“Go back to the place of your birth and home?”
“Never! Not there. I would rather be dead!”
“And now, not here either, so it would seem?”
He speaks the truth. I’ve no words to counter
So, the space holds null and quiet under
the weight of discernment without judgment
the bulk of my own rash indecision
a sure, headlong leap of imprecision
“Don ‘t fret on this. From such spaces can come
the best of shifts – the ones we see dimly
Hertwig’s warm words release truth’s heaviness
Shifting toward me, gently his hand on my knee
Embarrassment at his touch, I stand
meander around the room pretending
to examine the plunder or is it wealth
as if on exhibition: tapestries,
bracelets, broaches, boxes, jewels, and gold
“How did you get all these treasures?” I ask
“Oh, here and there, and in between – you see
I, too, have had my way with adventure.
Hearts like ours must run before settling down.”
The sound of that word – that name – brings back all
thoughts of sweet Hart, where I’m from, and right now
here with this man who has seen the home stars
among souvenirs of unspoken times
laid out carelessly – no reason or rhyme
Asudden I see it, in a green nest
of velvet brocade – a gold and blue eye
looks up from a black Dragon’s spiraled coils
shaped so finely, almost alive with breath
but a miniature of the larger self
I raise my eyes to Hertwig’s, and he knows
I have seen perfection in the serpent’s
ebony scales and topaz-cerulean eye
“Yes, this one is magic. This one’s for you
Only a few vibrate with sixth of nine
For almost all, she is just a bauble
She hides her mystical side well enough
but not from you, I see. For you, she stands”
I stretch my hand forward hesitantly
I long to make this beauty mine – I must!
Feeling that I’ve found a long-lost treasure
“Yes, this one’s for you – enchantment and all
but know once you are bonded with the sixth
that bond is ceaseless and the magic real
In such mystery, you may well find ones
who are waiting for you out in the stars
the icicle points you knew as a child
the dancers of home all sky-clad and wild”
“But prior to that, the mystery must
surface your true name where none now exists
a name of this dirt on which we survive
you must rush to emerald caves when it’s time
to fetch green diamonds from dragon’s hoard
Seeking a self, you follow what you feel
your life lashed to a never-ending wheel
Alongside you Seagrace tearing the bonds
when you call out to her, she will respond
her immense coils roiling the ocean
her spiked, fanged head in perpetual motion”
I stretch my fingers and stroke the black scales
The five coils roll like sea swells underhand
the work so delicate – fiercely alive
My trembling fingers curl ‘round the arched back
Swift tears well up, rain against the east sun
Could a black dragon, be guide to the one?
I close my eyes; my thoughts start to rotate
Behind the lids, Seagrace’s blue-gold eye
stops time, and at once I expand – explode
Pressing my hand, hopeful warmth starts to spread
Hertwig and the velvet room start to spin
Sleep enfolds me as I fall down and in
I know I am dreaming, but all seems real
In the mists my black Dragon rises up
enfolds her ebony wings around me
She throws her head back and calls out one note
a note from long ago in birthing fog
Immortal serpent turns her head and shines
through me and far beyond all the great stars
One note from her throat, and she bites down hard
sound of wisdom’s woes on wings of sorrow
and there’s Hart below Seagrace, the Dragon
Under her wings, deep in the dream, evil
evil gone – reconciliation here
Waking or sleeping, I cannot say now
immense joy rings from her powerful throat
singing of sad loves lost, wisdom acquired
. . . I sleep folded under ebony wings
sweet bellows’ breath – rumbling nostrils quaver
the great snake’s head lightly resting on mine
first time, I feel safe with this sixth of nine
Seagrace rears up, wakened from serene sleep
“Never!” she roars
You are never safe! Safety is a lie!”
Stand on the battlements with sixth of nine
Background:
The title of this epic, The One, begins to unfold strongly in this Song. The conversation with Hertwig challenge the MC to identify who or what “the one” might be. Something about the human condition condemns us to the suffering of our individual searches. Each of us seeks “the one,” “the two,” “the many,” that if attained will “make everything all right.” In youth, most of us fall prey to this dynamic. For some, the searching lasts a lifetime. If one is fortunate, someone like Hertwig comes along to probe and challenge, and force the issue of identifying this “one.” I know this has been true for me, and to some (undivulged) degree, still is. One question arises: should we be grateful for people like Hertwig who cause us to look deeply into our wants and desires and motivations? Should we, instead, stay as far away from such persons as we can for fear they will destroy our fantasies of freedom from suffering?
Exploration 1: Do you think the MC’s change of heart regarding Hertwig is believable? Why or why not?
Exploration 2: When the MC says, “I seek this ‘one’ that I have never seen,” do you think a clear idea has emerged of what this truly means? The One is about a search, a journey, for . . . well, we each define that for ourselves. At this point in the narrative, has the object of the search been identified?
Exploration 3: Speculate on the source of Hertwig’s insight and on his motivation to befriend the MC.
Exploration 4: Another dragon – Seagrace. more Dragons to come in future Songs. Think about the symbolism of Seagrace in the context of the MC’s search.
Sixth of nine? That must have some significance. The dragon shows the MC a reconciliation with Hart. The name Hertwig is close to Hartwig, meaning "Strong battle."
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