Story: 12. ) Prophetic Books

from . . .  A BOOK IS LIKE A SACRED ISLE . . .

   

          Beginning---from a cache of---oyster light

          Dark hid---amongst the annoying seed

          Buried deep---but acquiring praise---inside

          Foremost---the unknown layers---covering love

          The outer shell is full of…ridges…hollows

          Bends…all from…swaying…to the harsh world

          Which it meets…with tangent candour

          Yet...shallow knowing…there…not faced with self

          Oyster holding---offending wisdom---inside out

          For of two---is---its portion; only one---finalizing

          This, the pages could whisper---only from their origin

          The pearl book tells its light---from whence it came 



           Prophetic Books

    There are books which speak to the outsides of us, and they are delightful; but some nebulous unknown part within us remains unsatisfied. Then there are other books, which speak to our insides, and they are a little disturbing for they seem to be reaching more hidden extremities; but ultimately they satisfy more for we sense we are met at our touchstone, the very place where we assay any incoming gold or silver from a prophetic voice.

   Books have breath. Although it is not always the best thing, one can rely on perceiving something of a book by its movie. While it is usually advisable to read the book, the movie can meet us at the touchstone and ignite any spark of life it engenders in us there . . . There must have been breath in its fabric; in its intrinsic message something dynamic, sensory and sensuous, for it to have been made into a movie; and that will come through, regardless of any cosmetic interpretations and work its especial aim in us for it has been written, twice. 

   I found gold and silver: glory and redemption: reward and grace, in one such film. For it confirmed, and set a seal upon all I already knew and had written; and it established within me a firmer conviction upon which to work. The experience of watching this film was, for me, like a child opening a gift and finding it was what she had always wanted.  

   Even so, I feel bad to be writing a sketch here about a book I haven’t read yet!  But there was that in it, which was, true; and therefore I needed only its essential essence, and its entheasm; which like a pin to a magnet was captured, in instant impact, via the film.

   Through avidly watching the movie of this book I gleaned all that I was needing, at the time, to give me the confidence and strength to continue writing my next ‘book;’ which, being even deeper than the former was perhaps more controversial and so its writer was needing, some sort of comfort! 

   The book I watched is titled The Celestine Prophecy, by James Redfield; (Grand Central Publishing; Hachette Book Group; New York, 1993.) I have bought it, now. It should arrive next week from America. And although I don’t quite agree with certain fundamental assumptions within its foundation it doesn't matter I am sure I will delight in it and find its lighted truths shining on little plants within me waiting to flower; releasing, too, partly hidden pearls ‘turned-around-sufferings’ into their predestined form in new writings.

   Not presuming to be anything, I am nothing, in no way am I aspiring to be instrumental; I write because I can do nothing else. If I didn’t, I think I’d die! I love books, and I believe in their power. Like I love owls, and believe they fly in the night. Coming through the dark winged things see and carry light in them: they are not afraid; they are rebels broken through love.                                         ‘Old’ books and ‘new’ books need each other; just as writers and readers need one another; one cannot exist without the other. We are not isolated islands, even if we think we are. Through the prophetic influence of our lives expressed in our words, books, and actions we are always helping one another, onward and forward, in one way or another, on mankind’s ceaseless journey through time and eternity. Wisdom and knowledge is built ‘line upon line, precept upon precept.’ And from one generation to the next light is growing, and expanding:  truth…ever living.

                           *

          Today’s fly…speaking

          Flies by tomorrow’s…saying

          ‘Who do you think you are?’

          Tomorrow’s…invisible

          Whispers not of acceptability

          It has none…yet

          But its voice…silent...had been

          Heard…

          Going under...

          Lifting spots…left…by today’s