the words of a dream

I heard the words so clearly,
once and then again.
It may even have been my own voice
speaking them.
But though I heard the words
and could, and did, remember them, repeat them,
I knew not what they meant.

“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”

Words yes, but a question, too,
leading me
not to an answer,
only to more questions.

I stepped back and asked the first of these:
What does this mean?
What does this mean to the Goddess?
What does this mean to the Universe?
What does this mean to the Great Work?

“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”

I asked, to which level does the question point?
To the personal?
To the familial?
To the tribal?
To the communal?
To the national?
To the global?
To the universal?

“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”

And then I asked, to whom is this question addressed?
To myself, my ego, my persona,
my personality,
the one who lives on the outside
in the outside?

Or to my Self, my Soul,
the one within,
the one who swims the primordial sea,
inside, deep inside
and down deep and below.

“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”

And then in an effort to begin somewhere,
I looked at the words.
What people:
A country? A group? A nationality? A class?
Offend:
As in insult? Attack? Invade?
Religiously? Personally? Culturally?
Another:
Another individual? Another people? Country? Group? Nationality? Class?
By taking:
Accepting? Stealing?
Service: Aid? Slavery? Servants?
How can one take service? Something offered, something already contracted for?
To escape: escape from what and to where? To hide?
How does one take service to escape?

“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”
And then I asked,
to whom would
the answer or answers—
if there be any—
be addressed?
I asked,
am I a messenger appointed,
guided to convey this question,
its answers?
Is this a question that needs an answer or is the question itself—
or the pondering of it—
enough, enough?

In times past
poetry carried immeasurable weight
and the ones who spoke it
worked long and diligently at their art
and were respected for their efforts.

And each word they spoke
had meaning, meanings,
meanings upon meanings,
and each word
each combination of words
carried messages,
one upon another,
of great import and mystery
and those listening would hear the meanings
on the levels of themselves
and not ever know what they were hearing
but would feel the power
and mystery
and would go back to their lives
richer and fuller,
and more of themselves,
more complete.

And they did not question or doubt
but only listened
only drank from the cup of words
and grew from them
taller and deeper.

And those who spoke words
grew heavier and darker
with the weight,
the responsibility,
of the message.

Somewhere, somewhen,
someone saw this
and felt smaller
instead of fuller
and envied the one with the words,
the ones with the mystery,
and that green one
sought to diminish
the poet and the words.
And so questioned
who? what? and why?
cast doubt, criticized,
until the mystery was tarnished, dimmed,
dismissed and forgotten.

Forgotten but not gone,
and not lost
but held, carried, cherished
by those who continued to believe.
And the words themselves never lost their value
but only those who spoke them by rote
and those listening
lost their respect.

This question:
“What people would offend another
by taking service to escape?”
is itself a mystery
and each word has great weight
and depth and worth.
Where are those who would know the meanings?
Who would even know to look, to ask?
They are not gone, not even lost
except to those who would not see,
not hear,
not believe, not respect.
Not lost, no, but only quiet, only hidden,
but always asking, always seeking
always honoring the words
reveling in the richness,
the mystery of the words.
And knowing, certainly not all,
but enough to hold on,
to carry on this Great Work,
and knowing that this knowledge
is a gift,
a pearl of great price,
and the task of speaking, of writing
these words,
is an honor bestowed
by the Highest Ones.


© copyright Maggie Wilson
June 4, 2006