Tempest onoculus

“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" says David in Psalms 23. I imagine David wrote this while on the run from Saul, a man who would have taken his life and a man whose life he wouldn’t take out of respect for his crown. One bent in destruction, one guided by righteousness.  I heard a preacher preach once about David and he said that when David’s mighty men were asked what David was like. They would assume he was bold, brave, charismatic. The mighty men's response would be that he cries a lot.  The bible describes Saul, however, as having an evil spirit of the lord come over him. This condition was most commonly brought on in the presence of David. I imagine Sigmund Freud would say that Saul’s Desire for life was broken giving way to a death drive that was fixed in jealousy toward David which would lead him to his death spiritually long before his life was gone. God had moved away from him in favor of David, and left there in his abandon his mind unrav...

Lo the sun, in my sight line, rising above the meridian yellow and gold, bright and warm searing.  Lo the sun, behold the light, above and below engulfing. Round and around trolling and plowing in the earth and changing.  Lo the sun, disc of fire, in wake of learing shadow, passing over and beyond, up above from below and gone.

In Lloyd Chandler's folk song “conversations with death" later made popular by various artists and most popular by blue grass recording artist Ralph Stanley, death is once again given depiction entitatively as a spiritual being born of Appalachian bible belt southern folklore.  “ I’ll fix your feet till you can’t walk” says death to its unfortunate victim in the song. I’ve heard it said of the old timers how people talked about their legs going cold giving them indication that they were were dying. This feeling of icy cold associated with the touch of a spirit whose one purpose in existence is to rend spirit from flesh, knowing no barter other than the coin passed or prayer spoken for mercy in itself becomes the spirit if mercy in distant whispers that quiet pain with cold numbness. This spirit calls the soul away locking bone and muscle in place like a door forced closed till there is nowhere to go but out. These days, however, outside of sudden tragedy, we die differently, f...

I once had a dream where I dreamt that everyone loved something and, I loved the moon. In my dream I perceived it as a woman both elegant and round, filled with blessings , bright and silver shining on me in what comfort would feel like upon my soul. It washed over me, this light filled with love and blessings returned for favor like a mother’s smile to her child when that child has evoked her grace. In Kabbalah and much Jewish folklore, the Shekinah is represented by the moon. She is the supernal mother birthing her blessings on the people when she is full and watching over them in the night. Without doubt, I am fond of the moon. When I see it in the sky and feel it’s light wash over me it’s like the very presence of God touching my soul. Salutation Pending Johnny R Draper 

If I look in the mirror I see what my eyes see and share with the vision of my soul. To look upon others who would look upon me would be to see what their eyes share with their soul about me. If I look in the mirror of another’s soul what will I see? If I see myself in dream, in future, a fast forward reality where I know this person from mirrored experiences that I may know the person to come and, if I sleep no more than dream allows then I will sleep within that memory and cannot out run it. With the moon behind me, on hands and knees, before me, gazing into a trickling stream where light shines brightest in the darkness. The reflection cast is moving and I watch till like wet paint, it blurs and is carried away. I walk the banks as a shadow without contour, without form, within transparency separated body from soul allowing my mind to linger without thought till my shadow falls behind and I am just an outline of left over light. I open the book of nowhere and read the verse of nothi...

The many forms of death throughout history are figurative depictions usually of some humanoid type being represented artfully in the crafts performed by death. In the tarot, death is represented by a skeleton shrouded figure sometimes cloaked yielding a scythe for he is the reaper of souls, hence the common name “Grimm Reaper.” In Voodoo this figure is known as Baron Semedi, a skeletal figure wearing a suit with long coat tails and a top hat. It is only he who can accept souls into the land of the dead. I personally find this version of the figurative death to be quite classy. There is also, of course, the ferryman in Greek mythology going by the name Charon. Again, the image is of the classic cloaked and shrouded skeletal figure trading in his scythe for an oar. Pass the ferryman a coin and he will take you across the river Styx to the land of the dead. If the fee could not be paid, then the soul was left do wonder the shores for one hundred years. I don’t know if I have mentioned thi...

Somewhere, unlike anywhere, and light Transcendent like a river flows in Floating darkness cool and, Gushing smooth, of dream like consistency  Thick, and pooling life immaterial  Ascending, unfolding, whispering To my everything. Descending, triangulating, walking Across my everywhere. From nothingness, in everything void. Into everything from nothingness and Everywhere that these visions go on forever.