"The Last Flight to Heaven, final call for the Last Flight to heaven!" "Thunder and lightning is blasting Creation, a steam roller hitting The deck but my Eye of the storm is your safe haven" "Heavenly vessels can ferry the stars but my true lovers Mend and make do, wing and pray this old bus of a Hurricane." "Dr Who Am I. What are you doing here?" "Who's asking." "She certainly is. Lt O Who Ru." "I'm getting away from myself and finding it All on the OOHeaven trail." … So 00Heaven’s not dead? Adam in a Bond? No, but we are unless we can follow his trail. I see you are looking at Dante upside down and you have a Hafiz flight guide speak so you speak whirling Dhervish? What’s a bright girl like you doing in a Persian Air stewardess uniform? Don’t be fooled by appearances. I was NASA’s top astronaut. Only the boys upstairs wouldn’t let women fly moon missions.Well, shall we save the planet? I thought the White House was doing that? Ha! Western Air no longer runs a last flight to heaven. Too many terrorists and not enough baggage room. We must take the Hurricane of Love to Persian Air. But I've only flown Jupiters, Tardises and Dantes. I have no experience of flying the Hurricane of Love. Well now's your chance to learn..." "This is astro-knight grail quester Lt O Who Ru. Welcome to the last flight to heaven. If you go as Christ to the sky clothed in simple purity then your light shall rise and become as a hundred rays connect to the sun. Safety procedures. There are no safety procedures. God protect your mark of beauty from the evil eye’s effect. By that beauty the moon and sun are held in check. We are now about to take off for Manonash, which is the annihilation of the self, so please unfasten your seatbelts and hold on to your partner as we go through the six degrees of separation towards the seven degrees of love. Though the deluge shall arrive and threaten everything alive, Hafiz is there to be your guide and see you through the typhoon’s eye. Despair not. (Why not just tell them Dante’s hell is situated under the earth because it is sub-human?) Owing to the effect of the Evil Eye, the only way to heaven is down through what Dante called hell, purgatory and on into the core of our being. Inner space is not like outer space. The deeper you go, the higher you fly. text © Gareth Calway 2017, 6 Degrees of Separation, 7 Degrees of love (Sheriar) garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html

The 007 to Bliss has been cancelled, The 007 to Bliss has been cancelled. There is a replacement Dis service To the slush fundamental hospital And a private-I'd Dis-pensary On every corner. The Night Train Calling At Graves End, Dis Entry, Dis Pepsia, Dis Tended, Dis Temper, Dis Comfort, Dis Function, Dis Grace, Dis Respect, Dis Agreement, Dis Courage, Dis Trust, Dis Truction, Dis Semble, Passengers are reminded This is a No Hoping Station. No hoping anywhere on the station! Dis Ceit, Dis Aster, Dis Pair, Dis Belief, Dis Order, Dis Spoil, Dis Union, Dis Cord, Dis Quiet, Dis Topia, Put that Light out!! Hell City FC (‘Going down, going down, going down) Hell Mouth (Alight here for Hell Fire Station) Dis Mall (Black Friday All Week! Every Week! Forever!) Hell Central, (Daily Hell) The Slough of Dis Pond, Put that Light out! Disomer Murders, The Head Orifice Of the Dis-Servative Party, (CHARYBDIS-PUTATION) Little England in the Styx Social Self-Services, The Headache Q Of O HELL Magazine, The Dis Self-Unemployment Exchange, The Dis Mouth On Sea Folk Festival, The Dis Pleasure Dome, The Ego-Pivoting Dis-co, The Repeat Farewell Dis- Appearance of Sir Frank Sin And his Dis-Tribute Band Passengers are reminded This is a No Hoping Station. No hoping anywhere on the station! Hell Bottom, (The Rolling Stones - Endless Scheidt on Radio 3 Strolling Bones Tribute Band- Endless Scheidt on Radio 3 Satanic Majesties' Bequest) Endless Scheidt on Radio 3 Put that Light out! Endless Scheidt on Radio 3 The Night Train will Terminate here. Endless Scheidt on Radio 3 Endless Scheidt on Radio 3.... (etc) The night train West voids a soiled brown note and leaves the downfall station; Goodbye Cruel World - I trust you received THIS communication? The Zoo-break heart-freeze sin-beasts of Dante shadow the Circle Line, Paddle up shit creeks out in the Styx to Dis-on-Vacation. Spine-chilling out dark half glasses of Daily Hell, Bank Holiday Messiahs Dis-May my heart; Dis Troy, dim Dante’s Vision. Blind scentless furies and self Dis-abusers hawk heart Dis-ease As the Dis Mall burns: Dis-balled Cinderellas; Dis-simulations. God save me from Dis-consolation Dis-course; Fifty Shades Of Grave; the pinched shrill of Avant-God; this don't-know-Who we are from Adam. The name is Bond. Adam in a Bond. The actor who can’t go on. Wash off this do-do, Not Dis Not Dis, this suicide mission. God save me from my Dis-tinted spectacles’ bewitching Bewildering shadows of Dis-appointment Dis-guised as Eden. Hell isn’t other people…….It’s ourselves, our self-fulfilling Cock-up conspiracy clouds; our I-land’s alien nation. Marx says to do is to be; Sartre to be is to do, Sinatra Do be do be do this ‘Not’ only Love dares to tease undone. Who to do or not to do? to be or not to be? Who’s that At the tunnel’s end? Death. I embrace your oblivion. Who to do or not to do? to be or not to be? Who’s that At the tunnel’s end? Love? I embrace your oblivion.

Solidified might, past-imperfect as is. Birth of the deadliest thing on the planet, The Verb into Noun, the process into stasis. Damn all these currents of feeling that kiss And wear me, so much, with their wetness, or grit, Solidified might, past-imperfect as is. Silence, a stare, are my anaesthetists. I freeze out pressure, heat. I won’t admit The Verb into Noun, the process into stasis. Sunshine, tears, won’t melt my heart like Ice’s, I’m dead hard. Whatever moves, I’ll kill it, Solidified might, past-imperfect as is. I went to pieces once; perhaps round this More grainy core, less brittle, I can fit The Verb into Noun, the process into stasis. Made of dead reactions, buried stresses, Grist to milling Earth, I’ll never quit Solidified might, past-imperfect as is. The Verb into Noun, the process into stasis.

After Auschwitz, what heart lyrical? After our Heimweh of everyday hell, what rose-desk and quill? Through the barbed wire, your Smile radiates, Making my thorniest garland thrive; your bloom makes me ill. Our affair’s hopeless. Stop asking a Man to start dying of love whom all his life’s trained to kill. Yours a Zeitgeist of such subtlety, Stopping the cork is futile, against the triumphant will. Yours to take home the heart’s ultimate Victory, conquer the blitzed out ‘I’, the real Self fulfil. Master a heart-race past all dreaming of, Lebensraum wine by the Ocean- ah, but who’ll pay the bill? Answer, “Heart speech is love’s melody. Tune in. My rhythm will work yours free as no other will.” Love’s the sole song so stop wandering Judah away from the foot. Get started up Lovers' Hill. © Gareth Calway. Published in '6 Degrees of Separation; 7 Degrees of Love', Sheriar Press, 2016) http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html

Hell 4. Hiroshima. (The 4th degree of separation) בְּרֵאשִׁית בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם וְאֵת הָאָֽרֶץ (Genesis Ii) Energy exploding from critical mass, Stasis to kinesis, Noun into Verb, What God never finished has come to pass. A chain reaction until All is past Into fissions whose Noun forever reverbs, Energy exploding from critical mass. Atomised, fission-fused corporate Mass, The core Fascist State, removed by its Verb: What God never finished has come to pass. Antithesis, thesis, synthesis, gas. The Sun of its nuclear parts disturbed, Energy exploding from critical mass. Jericho’s heart ignites – mushrooms- shocks - blasts - Fire-balls – consummates - Death-dusts - its suburbs: What God never finished has come to pass. The End of Beginning, the First that Lasts, In dust-settled walls scorching the Proverbs: ‘Energy exploding from critical mass; What God never finished has come to pass.’

OM calls Q, ‘This hopeless Solo Bond, this drop out from Ocean, Make his homeless-bound vessel the Ark of Evolution. God’s original design meets my final solution. I’m a shocked shell of trench gas, a bubble of poison. Here all dreams and desires, finest feelings and great thoughts Turn to stone in unendingly spine-chilling boredom. Here my mettle is tested, it endures a fatigue That would crack up a spacecraft of sun-tempered tungsten. Cauliflowering growths turn me, root over brain-stem, To the scream of a vegetable torn from its Eden. I am crawling with maggots, alive with arachnids, From my pelvis’s pain-crack I mother a python. Now my brain twists to tentacles, squirming in shelled dread Making jelly of heroes, my mouth fanging open. If I dream I’m a beak flying out of this world, I am clawed back, like carrion, my catches unsung. Am an animal, tortured to hurt beyond hide, heart, howl Or the jaw-grip of reason, to chew Love’s conundrum. Man’s petrified mightbes, ands, buts – there’s no truth here: Just a brain in a flood-tank, a drop in an ocean. Wingless Angel, you’re half-trained but bone-fossil-armoured: Agent Who-do Do-be do-be isn’t you, so have done. "My Hell is having to explain something. I'm in a room. I've got everything to say, and I don't know how to say it. Though the whole room has been set up by me to say the OM sound....which is my cue for the lines I have, explaining what OM is. Then I suddenly realise that not only have I not got those lines in front of me, or in my head, but I haven't even written them. But I will try. In the beginning, a divine Whim surged through the ocean of Unconsciousness. It created bubbles, infinite numbers of bubbles, on the surface of the Ocean. Now those bubbles are the individual souls inside them is endless suffering and little joy, all of it illusory, because when the bubbles burst, they all return to the Ocean they never really left, only this time, consciously, infinitely conscious of the Ocean. Being, doing, being, doing, pseudo being, pseudo doing Home..home..home..home... home... HOME! Agent Who-do Do-be do-be isn’t you, so have done. HOME! Hello! I'm Abdiel, the rebel angel, the only angel to change sides during the civil war in heaven. You're probably wondering where you are. You're in devil's bottom, the bowels of hell, the empty frozen heart of the earth. Not the centre of the earth, that was the hell fire you passed through earlier, but its bottom line, its fundamental basis, its cold hard stone foundation. You're at the very bottom of hell in earth, the terminus, you need to get off here and walk along the track. Don't forget to leave all your belongings. This is the end of nothing, you have reached the lowest point of your sub-humanity, through six degrees of separation from God and each other. On your right are the Somme/Auschwitz/Hiroshma wastelands; on your left is what you have made of the earthly Paradise; in your nostrils is the poison fartgas of the most anally retentive control freaks of all time. Below you is the stone floor of hell, a planet thick, the solidified might of all you have ever done or been. But have hope. This floor is the back gate of hell, the way out. Just as hell mouth is an anus, its gate a hopeless trap, so its anus is a real end, a honest mouth for the Word. You have touched your baseness, plumbed your hell depths, the apparent foundation of your being. To enter heaven you now have only to do the impossible, to break through this titanic floor. Only Love has the energy to do this. Love is the one verb that does not petrify, the one action that does not add another layer to all this solidified might, the one predicate not fossilised by its subject 'I'. All I do's what I am and all am's what I do and can't undo to unbecome. But how in hell do you love? How on earth do you break through this vicious circle, these hell layers of Ego, your ancestral mineral, vegetable and animal past lingering on and consolidated through ages of (sub) human action. You do what you were and are what you did, forever. Well luckily heaven is with you too. (A deeply buried memory.) Oh Love, your morning is so bright, 'I love you loses its "I' And you in long nights of longing, my blazed eye leading the blind. Beneath the foundation of your frozen sub humanity is your still deeper real self. Keep drilling down until you emerge from the frozen sub-terrain out onto the purgatorial foothills of Mount Eden on the other side of the world. There as you will now experience, the deeper you go the higher you fly. You are climbing up and above the frozen mountains of Antarctica and towards the Sun. Oh Love, your morning is so bright, 'I love you loses its "I' And 'you' in long nights of longing, my blazed eye leading the blind. Welcome to Heaven. Seven levels of divining human being, even more human than the last, but please drive carefully. Your inner spacecrafts are powerful beyond your wildest dreams and the heavens so enchanting you can get lost in them forever. Keep your eye on the destination. Only the seventh heaven is real. Oh Love, your morning is so bright, 'I love you loses its "I' And 'you' in long nights of longing, my blazed eye leading the blind. Next stop, Heaven's Gate. All change.

e quindi uscimmo, a riveder le stelle. Purgatorio OK I guess we'd better get the love suit on O Who Ru. It is purgatory just getting it to fit, Doctor. Ah! I stand up – and straighten, show backbone and nerve Like a human, breathe oxygen, swivel and swerve. But this suit is unearthly, plays tricks with my brain, Only Judo Islamic Christ Love-Zen will serve. And the training is purgatory, flesh is not fixed; I’m a gay-straight, man-woman, black-Eskimo Serb. I’m the Wandering Who at the bottom of hell. I can’t Adam and Eve how my crossovers curve. In this Inner Space love-suit, this Onesie fits All, My identity shell cracks and heart hits a nerve. Human being’s the grave-bed of wanting doing; Love its flower and fragrance, lift off and surge. Now I climb up this launch pad I’ve built for my craft On this dying blue planet I’m pledged to conserve. Middle wayfaring pilot, you’re programmed to fly Seven planes to a love star no ‘I’ can observe.

Kas nadnist kih manzilgah-I-maqsud kujast In qadar hast kih bang-jarasi miayad (Hafiz) *Where the real dwelling of the Divine Beloved is, is not clear Only that I hear the sound of bells (from the travelling caravans)” Such celestial music! Are we dreaming, like those sleepwalkers? Yes. But we’re awake. We are our dreams come true. So- this is the uniform of my dreams? Yes. Because you like to be in control! But you like me in it? You’re my dream girl! Is that a bell or my heart ringing? Where are we? Oh, it’s a school! And you’re my dream teacher! Let the lesson begin! So I death-plunge to a black hole, in a wild spin, out of space, With my mind jazd, but my heart stays on its flight path to your Face. Crossing dream land’s timeless rainbow which my Earth-eyes sweep for gold: Wept effulgence of the star-cheeked, laughing gas tears, of your Face. I’m absorbing unabsorbed-in astral heaven’s purple haze, Passing fairs’ kaleidoscopics of my shadow on your Face. I pass ghost-ships on my wild wings lifting dream-high, stellar-fast, Over planets tipped at light-speed down the bright planes of your Face. Dazzling Path-knights rocket-science round some ace-high of their own; My craft orbits round a Sun-heart with the image of your Face. In this dream-town of a heaven, hidden angels are the birds Pouring tree-song down like sunshine on a heart rung by your Face. Singing fragrance– yet I’m held fast by the long shot of an Eye So enchanting even sirens can’t distract me from your Face. Smashing star-eyed with its earth-nose through Love’s cataract of lights And my craft’s gone - but I’m still here, speeding heartlong to your Face… O Kaleidoscope in Love-fall, O bright tunnel’s Lighted end, Trust this sixth sense hyper-realing round the five Oned by that Face. © Gareth Calway 2016 as published in his "6 Degrees of Separation; 7 Degrees of Love" (Sheriar)

Ciguyamat kih bimaykhanish dush mast o kharab Surush-I alam-I ghaybam cih muzhdiha dadast (Hafiz) *How can I tell you that last night in the tavern, intoxicated and unsteady as I was, great glad tidings were brought me by the angel of the hidden world.' I’m out of my brain with joy. Are we dead? Alive among the dead. All they can do is watch and remember, rejoice and regret. A thousand fold. We make new things happen. What’s that smell? Sinners unthinking their sins. Stay clear. They can’t. A Roman candle – both ends – a seized handful of lightning, She fires through the heavens like light streams off an angel’s wing. So mighty and subtle, a charge off of yin and yang, The craft’s me, and I’m her: love-fuelled, she flies to every whim. The Maimed King’s white-robed daughter, her eyes red with strange desire, Steers dreamland below – wakes life from dead Earth - by wishing. Above dreams, I see hereafter’s warp-speed joy and pain: trance Of soul-sending bliss; agony of sins’ un-thinking. Debt-ridden nightmares redeem themselves in galloping hells: Thick sins in deep shit, thin in shallow - below my high living. Six hundred and sixty six rockets shoot over like stars: Flight paths clear of congestion and endless delaying. It’s not sober in heaven, Calypso measures pour down; Pure spirit unstopped by flesh; wild uncorporate singing. I’ve pub-crawled from the plane into this heavenly city, Tavern drinking to an Absent Friend I should be meeting. Stuck. A Catherine Wheelspin Lotus to Nowhere. Fast. I’ve stalled The mission, the Earth and its peril, the Master’s calling. “O God-dazzled, leave this dream, which is heavenly shadow Of Grail light, and follow Me where such wish-life is nothing.” © Gareth Calway 2015, from my Sheriar book "6 Degrees of Separation; 7 Degrees of Love" http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html

Ye gods, where’s this? Olympus. Meru. The control centre of the Cosmos. Abode of the angels and gods, devas and fairies. Only there’s a problem. A problem? They’ve lost control. … Zeus serves notice, via Hermes, I can mind-read his no show: “Earth’s off axis, mind wreaks chaos, and it mocks gods’ control!! “Man-made death-tides,winds, quakes, burn-outs, heat, light, sound – once all Fairy-ringed, Neptune-swayed, angel-buttressed: now they blow. “Past my epoch, my four cycles, a million years Hurling thunderbolts and miracles (mirror-calls), I let it go. "Gone my long reign and its vapour’s subtle shape-shifting Cloud; Breath of God’s shadow falling as rain, my own shadow. “King of angels, I, yet angels and gods looking down Pray for low birth to ascend where we high spirits go. “Man yet king god, I return to the earth as a star; Raise the standard of what men may become, the hero. “Man and not god, with my lightning confined in a sword, Earthed, to die there like a man, pass the third heaven so. “Like St Michael, ageless angel, took one lifetime as a man To be God the day his body died, so let me below...” Oh, beloved, do not offer me that bliss of the gods: Three hundred and thirty million angels who bow. I, who loved you in dark exile on the Earth for one smile; Power over power: where even angels fear to go. “Shipwrecked Angel, flight deck sinking, high Olympus in flood, Aim your love-Ark at a peak only Lucifers ‘No’.” © Gareth Calway 2015, published in my Sheriar book http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html Cih rah mizanad in mutib-I muqam shinas Kih dar miyan-I ghazal qul-I ashina avard (Hafiz) “What perturbation and distress this musician with knowledge of spiritual states and stages is causing his listeners (lovers) by interpolating in the midst of his performance the words of the Divine Beloved.”

Heaven 004: At The Khuber Pass: (Lucifer Falls) Tu dastgu shu ay khizr I pay khujastih, kih man Piyadih miravam o hamrahan savaranand (Hafiz) “O august master, lead me by the hand because I am travelling the Path on foot (helplessly) as compared with other companions who are riding along it.” I see Lucifer didn’t fall – he was Pushed, by God's Whim; God’s full Power garlands my neck, Shiva’s cobra coiling. Closely guarded Key to the spirit world - top secret art of omnipotence In the locked gate of heaven, turning. Nothing can stop him, this endless serpent, desire-unbridling King of creation, his Potency can do anything. King of All, except himself, at black hole tipping point Of falling every moment, roving proud eye all desiring. King of all except himself, at black-hole tipping point of Falling every moment, roving-proud-Eyed, All-desiring. Owning everything there is; Eyeing everything he owns, he Locks me with his black-hole glance, and into dust I’m crumbling. Caught between two worlds, my screen’s locked on both, my ace fuel low. Humming occult energy eclipses thought, risks Grail’s destroying. ‘Lucifers’ have Omnipotent Divine Power, but no Directions for use; a Joy-stick that’s stuck, controls missing. Can Adam in a bounden shake the Bond from bondage or Will the bondage in the Bond in-stir and gorgon-Eye him. Khuber's Eye thinks Earth’s destruction, and the Earth’s doom starts there Straight away: All-anger, he wastes lands by thought’s dark willing. He farts chaoses, new worlds, usurps the afterlife, makes suicides Enter new corpses, possesses men, beasts haunts the living. Voo-doo peaks, HOT FEELING HARD-WIRED, ALL-SUBLIME-THOUGHT KISSING: MOI!- gone– thinks he’s stone now, lies flat on the floor in ruin. Fierce flaming jalalis, Shiv-combusted from light-winged merlins Flown by lesser masters, roar up the limitless ceiling. Light flows from within - without, above, below, all round me, Streams behind, before, the white rose of a bright noon’s shining. Shielded thus, ‘Lancelot’ soars, high as an archangel’s sword Sheathed in spells Morganna sings, Mother of All-healing. Cutting edge, State of the Ark, pure simple light, Christ to sky Risen; as a hundred rays to the Sun connecting. Voodoo isn't Who, Who's the voo-doo left undone, Vooddoo's legion, Who's the One, dragon slaying, demon-laying, dissing, dissed and done dissing. O ace, the King of Spades would club a diamond from your heart But Love's the higher suit, sends you dark side Khuber-flushing. O ace, the King of Spades would club a diamond from your heart But Love's the higher suit, the same is up, lay down your cards. © Gareth Calway 2016 in "6 Degrees of Separation, 7 Degrees of Love" (Sheriar, 2016) http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html Contrary to an absent minded mistake in that book, it's Perseus not Jason who out-snaked the Medusa. Jason would have no such such comprehension of her, just as he cannot comprehend Medea. Perseus is the son of Zeus and the mortal Danae, whom the god seduced in a shower of golden rain. Half god, half mortal, Perseus is said to be founder of Persia.

Huzuri gar hami khvalu Azu ghayib mashu (Hafiz) 'O Hafiz, if you desire the divine presence, then do not allow yourself to be absent'. I can feel my mind emptying, all the blind alleys and false starts and ends clearing. It’s wonderful. At last – I think I know who I am-m-m-m. And how to get there. All those ideas we had to act out in a hostile universe- Now we just think them-m-m-m! Back to the Source. Mmm. Is that divine humming you or m-m-me? Mm? Don’t stop! It’s Buddha under a banyan tree, high as the sky but rooted. Buddha with your face? M-m-my face. Shh. Don’t m-m-make a sound – except... Every sound, the prim-m-mal sound. Every feeling expressed in that one sound. OMMM… MMMM… Fiery Light, uneclipsed, fills the sky Thought unclouded now fixes my Eye. Realisation, the sight of Bliss, (God) Unchecked and fall-free once divined. Even Lucifer out-thought by this: Power’s weakness is blown in the mind. Mysteries are explained in a flash, Let Omega be Alpha, X, Y! Conceiving the First in the Last, God’s endless beginning and why. Not the Gnosis itself, the Gnostic: All that’s thought, bad and good, low and high. Not the Infinite singer, the music: Dis this turbulent Bliss and you’ll fry. The original OMMMMM MY GOD torch song For a First Grand Mort that can’t die. Cruising Mind Control, seer of signs, Math magician, the sky in the Pi. Meeting parallel universe lines: Sin agreement: keep Kuber Ji High! OMtorway to a vast city-plane; Mind consumed in Soul’s melody. Heaven science's Ivory Towers, Angels' High Ed laboratory. Keeping God's Eye on wayward minds; Zapped ignosis, profanity. Shining Eye you’re half closed to the shadow Half unblinded by love’s certainty. YES... © Gareth Calway 2016 in "6 Degrees of Separation, 7 Degrees of Love" (Sheriar, 2016) http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html

Ma darpiyalih ak-i rukh-i yar didih im Ay bikhabar zi lazzat-i shurb-i mudam-i ma (Hafiz.) 'We have seen the face of the Beloved reflected in the (heart's) cup O ignorant one, no notion have you of the bliss we imbibe therefrom.' This bliss is agony. I’m looking at you and seeing a Me I can’t have. So near and so far. Everything! And nothing. Frodo stumbling through Mordor. Seeing Lothlorien in his mind’s eye I’m going out of my mind. There’s a ring of fire where my mind’s eye used to be. Step into it. This face that burns upon my Eye in searing fiery gale: More clear than any seen on Earth or heavenward trail. The Lancelot shot down in flames, the highest craft of all: Conception deconstructed lifting Guinevere’s veil. ‘I see your face in everything, but cannot leap the gulf Between belief in what I see and being what I fail.’ It’s Leila’s I-consuming, never-ending, parted love For Majnu, her sole bleeding where his sole trod upon a nail. He feels his wreck in her, a bliss that pierces his heart And bleeds from hers like wounds of Passion’s holiest nail. The agony of longing long, the ecstasy of pain In hearts that See their grail through golden bars of a gaol! Your Sun is Everything and there is nothing that is not the Sun: My black hole All-consumed in one whole - yet shadows prevail. In sainted flames of love, with nothing else it can see It burns away in grief, this Eye that can’t have the Grail. O Heart of Hearts, her Absent Heart is All to you now. She’s in the Seventh Sun, where Lovers leap and visions...fail ©Gareth Calway 2016 published in "6 Degrees of Separation; 7 Degrees of Love" (Sheriar) http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html

Six sheets to the wind, all the sheathings of 'I', Love blows me away, I blink and 'I've' gone... Sav bar tahira dama ha thon mire aya Jab ankh khuli dikha apna hi gariban hai – (Asghar) ‘A hundred times I felt that I held your garment firmly in my hands; When I opened my eyes I was amazed to discover it was my own garment I was holding.' Who am I? I am God. The Winter King. The Fisher King. The Wounded King… The Mother and Father of Creation. We’re back where we started! Our real Identity. We never left. It was all just smoke and mirrors, a mind game. My mind’s gone. There’s nothing between us... Oh God! Best feeling ever. Khush. ‘Khush’? Happy. Illumination’s burning Eye has gone, let darkness come, A slip between the Grail and Lip, a black hole in the sun. In total Darkness, total Light; in Nothingness, nirvana. Who dared to love, now lover and beloved love as one. I lift the Grail, the Holy Grail I always was and am The musk the deer pursued, the winging moth and flame made one! A golden rose, a thousand suns, a blaze of brimming light Now overflows my lip with love: the Earth is stirred and shaken. Brings Light to Earth and Earth to Light, un-maims the Wounded King, Unwinter the Grail Maiden’s Eye, makes Maid and May King one. The quest’s achieved, the Earth shall live, heart’s wilderness is sown With seeds lost in the fruit it bears, the soul of all is won. O Who of Whos, your heart has burst and pours on Winter’s Kingdom Its cornucopic vessel’s rays: Who dared win love – has won! ©Gareth Calway 2016 published in "6 Degrees of Separation; 7 Degrees of Love" (Sheriar) http://garethcalway.blogspot.co.uk/2016/01/6-degrees-of-separation-7-degrees-of.html