May 2017
David Scheler
david.scheler@gmail.com
david.scheler@gmail.com
I have a wide range of interests that include gardening, fishing, cooking, music, oil painting, and poetry. I have served as a member of the Wisconsin Poet Laureate Commission, and my poems have been published in a number of journals, including the Aurorean, Avocet, Comstock Review, Main Street Rag, Mid-America Poetry Review, Reed, and Trestle Creek Review. I have recently reacquainted myself with the French language, and have translated over 100 of my poems into French.
Author's Note: While pursuing degrees in philosophy and art history at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, I became intrigued with ancient mythology. Years later when I revisited mythology, I became interested in the mythical themes that are shared by many cultures. This led me to “The Golden Bough,” and the studies of archetypes pursued by Carl Jung and his protégé, Mary Louise van Franz. I also started to research the Tarot in terms of its history and its relationship to myth. At that point I began began writing the poems that have become this book, which I have titled “Labyrinth”—a series of 29 poems related to these ongoing myths and memes. My motivation to write it comes from an urge to explore the metaphysical rather than the epistemological nature of what we perceive, believe and profess as knowledge.
The first six poems in the book feature images from the Tarot. Some of the later poems also reflect this reference point. These initial poems elucidate my response to, and questioning of the images in the Tarot cards that I have selected.
Editor's Note: I am publishing the whole of "Labyrinth" in monthly installments.
The first six poems in the book feature images from the Tarot. Some of the later poems also reflect this reference point. These initial poems elucidate my response to, and questioning of the images in the Tarot cards that I have selected.
Editor's Note: I am publishing the whole of "Labyrinth" in monthly installments.
L A B Y R I N T H
P O E M S I - V
P r e - F a c e
Which conclusions... when one explores
the truth of the questions of knowledge,
but faith and its complement?
-The Ariel
In the whorl of a sigh
exhaled into the wind
I was carried away
in an introspection greater than memory.
I glance into the labyrinth
and see image-illusions, archetypes
of intra and extra-inquiry
unfolding as a dichotomy of discourse
between the Logos and Eros.
The cards are shuffled, dealt
and then shuffled again
as Psyche looks back
and finds Cupid
in the black back of the mirror.
The Hawk of intellect tells us of love,
The cupped palms
of the Queen of Hearts
offer us the universe.
With gnawing hunger,
we desire everything,
crave everything,
from silk to dust.
The self tumbles into the Zen
Chaos from which it was spawned.
Do we ask too much of knowledge, love and life?
Questions are spun in the spring
and weave their way into definition
that fall like leaves and drift in the autumnal winds.
the truth of the questions of knowledge,
but faith and its complement?
-The Ariel
In the whorl of a sigh
exhaled into the wind
I was carried away
in an introspection greater than memory.
I glance into the labyrinth
and see image-illusions, archetypes
of intra and extra-inquiry
unfolding as a dichotomy of discourse
between the Logos and Eros.
The cards are shuffled, dealt
and then shuffled again
as Psyche looks back
and finds Cupid
in the black back of the mirror.
The Hawk of intellect tells us of love,
The cupped palms
of the Queen of Hearts
offer us the universe.
With gnawing hunger,
we desire everything,
crave everything,
from silk to dust.
The self tumbles into the Zen
Chaos from which it was spawned.
Do we ask too much of knowledge, love and life?
Questions are spun in the spring
and weave their way into definition
that fall like leaves and drift in the autumnal winds.
I - The Magician
The Sorceress dealt me three cards:
Sun, Moon and Magician.
As a Magician, an alchemist,
I blend the mercurial:
Moon and Sun melt
in a chalice of silver and gold:
a jewel for our illustrious Queen of Cups.
I look in the black
back of my mirror.
The reflection within,
an eclipse
of silver and shadow:
a dark Moon covers
the fading corona of Sun.
In meditation I gaze,
then tumble in cool velvet black,
lost in inner-illusions,
I drift on reflections
of visions I find
hidden
in the back of my mirror.
Sun, Moon and Magician.
As a Magician, an alchemist,
I blend the mercurial:
Moon and Sun melt
in a chalice of silver and gold:
a jewel for our illustrious Queen of Cups.
I look in the black
back of my mirror.
The reflection within,
an eclipse
of silver and shadow:
a dark Moon covers
the fading corona of Sun.
In meditation I gaze,
then tumble in cool velvet black,
lost in inner-illusions,
I drift on reflections
of visions I find
hidden
in the back of my mirror.
II - The Labyrinth
On a warm summer evening
I draw a breath—
the breeze quickens my pulse
in hypnotic drone
that resonates distant drums:
soft rhythms of the universe.
I travel with black wolves,
the dogs of Hecate.
Their hungry pink tongues
lead me to the confluence
of four magic rivers;
I choose the River Styx.
As I drift through diaphanous
veils of my mind, in a trance
the Queen of Cups spins
in spiral dance.
A votive candle of violet:
Card of the Star,
hangs over the entrance
as an omen of hope
casting a shadow that hides
my reflection from white light;
the breeze flickers the flame.
Compelled to the forbidden—
my hidden shadow,
I enter the maze
as Hermes, a shaman,
and drift over the chasm
filled with a haze
made of the dust
spun from my dreams.
I draw a breath—
the breeze quickens my pulse
in hypnotic drone
that resonates distant drums:
soft rhythms of the universe.
I travel with black wolves,
the dogs of Hecate.
Their hungry pink tongues
lead me to the confluence
of four magic rivers;
I choose the River Styx.
As I drift through diaphanous
veils of my mind, in a trance
the Queen of Cups spins
in spiral dance.
A votive candle of violet:
Card of the Star,
hangs over the entrance
as an omen of hope
casting a shadow that hides
my reflection from white light;
the breeze flickers the flame.
Compelled to the forbidden—
my hidden shadow,
I enter the maze
as Hermes, a shaman,
and drift over the chasm
filled with a haze
made of the dust
spun from my dreams.
III - The Fool
Dealt the Card of the Fool
I was an innocent, the curious
chosen by chance
as the Carnival King
erected as Emperor-warrior
on a black steed.
As the Carnival King I thought Moon’s luminescence was folly
so I sacrificed her light to the Sun—
a gift from night to the day.
In the conceit of youth
I confused my new power
with the insolence of arrogance.
As retribution for pride,
I was lost in the cinders—
a shadow
cast from the fires of hubris.
But dealt the Card of Fortune, a hope for restitution,
I stepped out of the ashes
to discover the quicksilver
mix of the Sun and Moon.
I embark on this journey
to rediscover the innocence
lost as a child
and travel to the edge
where night greets day.
Death’s danger stalks
when the new crescent cradles
the old moon in her arms.
It is here I am greeted
under the Dark Star of Zeus,
by the shadow of the animus,
nocturnal and vast;
its power pours forth
an enthralling light
as he rises on the indigo horizon.
I was an innocent, the curious
chosen by chance
as the Carnival King
erected as Emperor-warrior
on a black steed.
As the Carnival King I thought Moon’s luminescence was folly
so I sacrificed her light to the Sun—
a gift from night to the day.
In the conceit of youth
I confused my new power
with the insolence of arrogance.
As retribution for pride,
I was lost in the cinders—
a shadow
cast from the fires of hubris.
But dealt the Card of Fortune, a hope for restitution,
I stepped out of the ashes
to discover the quicksilver
mix of the Sun and Moon.
I embark on this journey
to rediscover the innocence
lost as a child
and travel to the edge
where night greets day.
Death’s danger stalks
when the new crescent cradles
the old moon in her arms.
It is here I am greeted
under the Dark Star of Zeus,
by the shadow of the animus,
nocturnal and vast;
its power pours forth
an enthralling light
as he rises on the indigo horizon.
IV - The Hanged Man
I come to a garden frozen in time:
luminous flowers
weep narcotic black tears.
On Persephone’s oak,
tree’s claws clutch the sacrificed:
the Hanged Man suspended in stasis.
I have entered the Garden of Death.
Zeus’ Tower of Lightning
stands at the gates,
through fire and tumultuous billows
it reaches toward heaven
in the rust smoke of ashes:
my demise and rebirth.
The garden is guarded
by a lacquer faced mask;
The Devil assumes the face of a warlord.
He is the dark Emperor—
metallic mask glistens crimson and black,
eyes of ice-green thrust steel spears of lightning.
My shadow rides
on his translucent black steed.
In reflexive vision
I see gold and black bands,
the ecliptic apparition
transforms to the Tigress, my guide,
an ally to serve as protectress.
In a instant
she transmutes to the Empress.
Beseeched by her gaze,
I reach out to touch
the mask of the Emperor,
the warlord vanishes
in his own ashen vapors;
I escape from the jaws of illusion.
His is one of the faces
I confront in my mirror.
luminous flowers
weep narcotic black tears.
On Persephone’s oak,
tree’s claws clutch the sacrificed:
the Hanged Man suspended in stasis.
I have entered the Garden of Death.
Zeus’ Tower of Lightning
stands at the gates,
through fire and tumultuous billows
it reaches toward heaven
in the rust smoke of ashes:
my demise and rebirth.
The garden is guarded
by a lacquer faced mask;
The Devil assumes the face of a warlord.
He is the dark Emperor—
metallic mask glistens crimson and black,
eyes of ice-green thrust steel spears of lightning.
My shadow rides
on his translucent black steed.
In reflexive vision
I see gold and black bands,
the ecliptic apparition
transforms to the Tigress, my guide,
an ally to serve as protectress.
In a instant
she transmutes to the Empress.
Beseeched by her gaze,
I reach out to touch
the mask of the Emperor,
the warlord vanishes
in his own ashen vapors;
I escape from the jaws of illusion.
His is one of the faces
I confront in my mirror.
V - The Purification
The Empress leads me
through Fires of sulfur
and Earth’s coal-blackened salt-flats.
In searing white air
I stare into a setting sun.
The desert strips delusion—
the last of facades
that reflect my personae
fade in the shifting light.
Under the moonrise,
I assume the silhouette of a Hawk.
Wings spread in flight,
I see my shadow
cast on the desert at night.
My hawk seeks the secrets of Ancients
and soars
on cool Mistral air.
Traveler take care,
the Moon’s honeyed dew
entices you on
as she rises toward full
to guide you on twilight horizons
or leave you
lost in the wind.
In the corner of my eye
the Queen of Cups grins.
Pleased with my progress,
her ebony hair flows
spinning in spiral
she thrusts the hawk into flight.
through Fires of sulfur
and Earth’s coal-blackened salt-flats.
In searing white air
I stare into a setting sun.
The desert strips delusion—
the last of facades
that reflect my personae
fade in the shifting light.
Under the moonrise,
I assume the silhouette of a Hawk.
Wings spread in flight,
I see my shadow
cast on the desert at night.
My hawk seeks the secrets of Ancients
and soars
on cool Mistral air.
Traveler take care,
the Moon’s honeyed dew
entices you on
as she rises toward full
to guide you on twilight horizons
or leave you
lost in the wind.
In the corner of my eye
the Queen of Cups grins.
Pleased with my progress,
her ebony hair flows
spinning in spiral
she thrusts the hawk into flight.
©2017 David Scheler
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF