SEVEN

INTRODUCTION It is not often that I have the courage, or insight, to write an epic poem. But I think at last I may have accomplished it; in any case I am happy with it, despite the critical acclaim it has received in its opening part. The Aerials of Welkin has been a trying series for me, and although it has sounded very abstract to you readers out there, it has a lot of meaning to me. I just haven't been able to tie it all up neatly before now. And so I feel that this introduction is necessary both as a brief, informative telling of the poems past, and as a kind of redemption for the final part of the story. I only hope it satisfies the expectations of those I have surely shattered in its long draft and revision. I first got the idea for the story when I read Stephen King's Dark Tower series. But it became obvious that I was trying too hard to force the comparisons between my new characters (who were not that original either) with King's cast. I also got lost somewhere around the fifth and sixth parts, a fact that I regret immensely, but that now I realize was only natural. However, I endured; and in the end, my patience (which comes to almost 6 months of holding off the finish) was rewarded. It wasn't until I read Dante's The Divine Comedy that I really knew where I wanted to go with it. Once again I didn't want to just rewrite it by forcing the facts but I also did not want to wait any longer. I had already started to forget some details and conjure up new ones; you have no doubt noticed these subtleties from part to part. But again, upon completion as of today, I think my thoughts are justified, relevant, and original; a feat I feel is important in poetry. And so for this final version, I have rescribed the first six parts along with the last, and my notes will surely back up the connections made with the ending. There are too many to list here, but if you have further questions after reading the poem I will be happy to answer them. I Ageless creatures of the sky Roaming wide and flying high. Careful to distort your mind Reflections of another kind Life on a boomerang, indirect and swift Death on a leash, do ya' dare escape the rift? The path is clear for now, Slaves and victims, powerlessly endowed. II Ageless stranger of the Earth, He walks alone, no hope for mirth. A victor once, the world moved on; His powers frayed, a desperate song [now plays on . . .] Then doors, Oh Doors! Choices, oh Choices! But where's the key? And who are those voices? The path of this world ends, But infinite others twist and bend. III Ageful child not of the Earth, Dreaming, lonely, scrawny girth; His prophecy foretells a fight. When darkness overcomes the White: but mercy doth outweigh the odds, and faith subscribes to imaginary gods. Here, here my son, and come to me, For love proclaims antagony. IV 'He is mortal. Your son is mortal. The child is mortal.' (The child is a portal.) The stranger dreams of a battlefield; Morphing blackness, and a tattered shield. Dotted with milky stars, Chained and crossed like prison bars, Steps up he to the First Door; He has no key (where's the key?), but knows there's more. V Song of Welkin, aging creatures sing [Starlight, star-bright I wish I may, I wish I might have thethings I wish tonight.] Death or destiny does the stranger bring, The Doorsteppes of Holy Mount forsaken Love's key, the Heart of child is taken Mirror, mirror on the empty wall Unto which world doth the stranger fall? Once the rift is closed; the Portal is a shield. And the Hero stands the other side, on a battlefield. VI (The song of Aerials is louder still; not euphonious, or harmonic lyrics to sway the souls of men and gods, as they traverse the tumulose, and secret Portals, and loving Sacrifice, all to quell a quest. A man, Hero to some, Flaw to others more, dons his armor of Knowledge, Bravery, and Light He stands on a battlefield, yes, but on the other side is a door, nay, the Door: the Secondus and it is his way in. But the Way is shut. And then the stranger, who fell, remains in freefall, under a waterfall, at the edge of Time (where he stops, nobody knows!?) but fate has intertwined his with the one some call Hero, others more call the Flaw. We shall see at the bottom.) VII A plummeting waterfall on the coast of Time Carried the stranger for his crime. He walks wearily to the Gate of Hell, in Limbo, and thus where Cerberus fell The morphing black of Upper hell nears And the Hero awaits to accompany his fears The climbing descent, as ironic as cold fire Brings him closer to his Heavenly goal, ever higher. The world above's a land of ghosts, all sinners and unworthy hosts. The wolf has ravaged America's greed who were deaf to the Lamb's crying need And forced the stranger to walk below on the path of the lion and scarecrow The Hero leads him through the city of Dis, but his heart is foreshadowed by an icy breeze. The shapeless river Acheron freezes the devil whom the stranger passes by, onto the next level Escaping death, he arrives on Destiny's shore and the Secondus, the Mount of Air's only door. A staggering height of nine cornices purged the stranger of the Earthly Paradise emerged. This the Hero knows is law; but the Angel Guardian reveals his Flaw. Upon learning of the Hero's sin, an unkempt store of human reason; The stranger's field of golden fire arose the Paradise he yearns for flows from his heartchild, resurrected from the Dead; his soul elected to guide his father to the light with the Aerials watching day and night. Star-lit paradise dimly kept the stranger, now, at long last, wept for his son, whom love proclaims antagony now rests peacefully in the angel hierarchy and at the center of all the spheres (the Nine rings of Jubilous cheers) is the Scintilla, the point whence all Life sprung. God's Breath of Life derived from tortoise lung. And so the Holy Trinities rejoice when father and son combine their voice Returned to the desolate wastelands on earth, seed of child is planted to rebirth. The Great Empyrean on Earth to come before the wheel of history is respun. And beneath the ashes, where the scorched wind blows is a charred and twisted desert rose.