Phillip Medhurst

Wisdom from a Gnostic Sage

Tag: fossil

Apr 14, 2016

Ida the Fossil (2)

 

And yet I hope that soon this week will end,

That dawn will break, and broken hearts will mend

So that a wholesome Sabbath day will bring

Enlightened rest; that birds again will sing

Instead of fearsome rustlings in the dark;

And the whole world will be a pleasant park:

The wood in which we wandered just a copse,

A refuge for the timid beast, which hops

To cover, then comes out at will to see

The sunlight play, no need at all to flee

From hungry predator. A dream! As such

It does not heal, but just provides a crutch

For fractured consciousness, which seeks in vain

To mend its broken world, where only pain

Defines reality, and we are lame,

And cannot run, compete against, or tame

The ravening beast which seeks us, and devours

The meagre gleanings of successful hours.

The dawn will show a good God to be lies,

And noonday sun expose a Lord of Flies.

 

I know the time is nigh: the global scale

Has tipped towards destruction. Soon the tale

Of all man’s deeds and misdeeds will just stop,

And end in silence. Sin’s ripe fruit will drop

And smash upon the ground of all our being.

That ground may then remain, all else then fleeing,

As cold and hard as it has ever been,

Unheard, unsmelt, untouched and all unseen

By anything that mars the pristine scape

Of nothingness with any wanton shape

Irrelevant to Being-in-Itself –

All life placed on that continental shelf

Where fossils lay well out of sight and out

Of mind, mere rocks embedded there to flout

The law of life which says that we must change,

And we must use our power to arrange

Some continuity of gene, no noise

To rattle or disturb death’s equipoise.

So IDA is our perpetuity,

Extinct and petrified where none can see.

 

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Apr 9, 2016

Ida the Fossil (1)

 

Scientists have discovered an exquisitely preserved ancient primate fossil that they believe forms a crucial “missing link” between our own evolutionary branch of life and the rest of the animal kingdom.The 47million-year-old primate – named “Ida” – has been hailed as the fossil equivalent of a “Rosetta Stone” for understanding the critical early stages of primate evolution. The Guardian 2009

 

In this, the Sabbath vigil of my life, I found

Myself prostrate, all helpless on the ground,

For sin had made me blind. It was as though

Throughout my life I strayed, and did not know

Where I was going or from whence I came,

Just led by some ephemeral, dancing flame

Snuffed out once it was glimpsed, and dead to sight

Before it could be fixed – the moth’s mad flight

More full of rhyme and reason than my life,

Now so replete with grief and full of strife.

 

I’ve looked at ev’ry explanation that

There is of life, and none come near to sat-

Isfying all criteria of truth,

Or come up with the necessary proof

That they’re the answer. All require a leap

Into absurdity – alright for sheep

Who find their comfort in conformity,

But useless for all lone-wolves such as me.

There is a way to make it work, of course,

Which is: to put on blinkers like a horse

 

And go just where the drayman tells you to.

But in your heart you’ll know it to be true

That, even though you’re willing to work hard,

All roads end up inside the knacker’s yard.

“Arbeit macht frei” is true to a degree,

But not the way we wish that it could be.

A product of conception, you will be

From life aborted, howe’er belatedly.

Meanwhile, you strive where chance gives no reward:

Your feeble hand upturns an empty gourd.

And so our ends are like a jelly-fish:

Sans spine, sans brain, a wat’ry upturned dish

Borne on through vastness we cannot perceive,

Still less control enough to steer. Believe

We may, but proof of purpose or a plan

Revealed consistently denied, we can

Not fabricate from our own stuff, for we

Are empty, blind, insensate, falsely free,

Borne on by tides, by winds, by currents, all

Uncomprehended, landing where we fall.

 

The birds seem free; no wonder, then, the dove

Is symbol of God’s Spirit from above.

But what became of all the other kinds

Of beasts not taken to the ark? – They died.

So we: into oblivion. We: free

To die and be forgotten; the elect

Disclose God’s will to naturally select.

Just like a snail I leave a glistening train

To be erased by the first fall of rain;

Or, like the scarab, roll a ball of dung,

My pyramid for when I have no tongue

To extol my own deeds. For like that bird,

(Though it may seem unlikely and absurd)

The phœnix, from the ashes (I surmise)

Once fire is spent I presently will rise

To live again; although we know within

That in this legend ashes are the “fin”.

 

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