Ad Infinitum Book One Master of the Nine Steps Read online

PART ONE

  Beauty-

  To some you are the aroma, rippling in the wind

  You come from the Alpha, to the righteous or the sinned

  You come to the Omega, for sadness to rescind

  To some you are the sweet, dancing on the tongue

  You come to those who eat, whether old or young

  You come to compose a treat in a world unstrung

  To some you are the sound, echoing words of cellar-door

  You come to astound with a whisper or a roar

  You come renowned to a world wanting you more

  To some you are the touch of tingling white velvet

  You come as a clutch with fingers of bluing gold sunset

  You come to touch the long untouched beset

  To some you are the sight of light shining through the shade

  You come from all the light ever made

  You come from the might that will never fade

  To some you are the wisdom of mellowing thought

  You come from the glorious kingdom forever sought

  You come from the only freedom of infinite plot

  To some you are a decreer of happiness

  And we, to be the seer of gladness

  To be freer of sadness,

  Are the agreer

  To the decreer -

  Our due

  Our duty

  To you

  Beauty

  I moved toward the fringe

  Where sand and jungle met

  And each boasted of their power

  Their danger their courage

  They laughed at one another

  And bragged of the tolls they had made

  I moved slowly,

  Patiently, yes patiently

  The numbering years

  It took me to learn

  The meaning of that word

  "But now

  It is with me"

  I thought

  As I came to a small dune

  "Patience—

  A simple way of life

  To give me

  A grasp

  On mental peace

  Patience—

  It has taught me through hope

  That

  Time is the acid that dissolves all problems"

  I climbed the last dune

  And there mingled the fringe

  There stood the lady

  White silk in the wind

  Silent I stood watching,

  Absorbing the moon

  As it spilled from her hair

  Silent I watched

  Watching her watch

  Slowly

  I moved closer

  Until

  I stood

  But a

  short distance away

  I scrutinized her being

  She had fine features,

  A small nose

  Delicate lips

  Her eyes shone, unusually

  And

  Through the fluttering white

  Her slender figure was easy to discern

  "Good evening"

  I said

  "I am a searcher

  And

  One from the desert,

  I am forever traveling

  And therefore know the ways

  Of lost trails"

  As I spoke

  I waited—intent

  Curious

  Of her reaction

  But

  She was not startled

  Nor did she cry out

  Nor run away

  In fear

  Instead

  She stood staring,

  Silently

  She watched the dunes

  Her being seemed a paradox—

  Radiating happiness

  Yet

  Her eyes

  Were of a despairing gaze, laughing

  "Perhaps

  We could talk awhile"

  I said—

  Still

  She was silent

  I waited

  And finally

  With friendliness

  I moved closer

  "Lady of the fringe"

  I asked

  "Have you some plight,

  And might I help?"

  Silence

  "Why the fringe?

  Why do you stand here

  Between

  The two extremes of danger—

  Jungle and desert?"

  I thought-

  "Perhaps

  She is one

  Of an expedition

  And

  Has become lost

  In the night

  Or

  Perhaps

  They are nearby

  Camped

  And she is merely watching

  As the moon rises

  Reflecting

  Radiance

  Upon the mountains

  The meadows (further down)

  The jungle

  And the desert"

  Still,

  She said nothing

  She radiated happiness

  And a feeling of peace,

  Tranquility

  Still

  She stood

  Watching the desert

  Then slowly

  She turned her gaze

  Toward the mountains;

  With moisture reflecting the moon,

  Shining

  And

  From her eye—

  A laughing eye

  Flowed a graceful tear

  She looked

  Back

  To the desert

  And,

  As if speaking to the sands,

  She said

  "*Our meeting tonight

  Was fated*"

  She watched the sea

  Of rolling sand

  For a very long time,

  The moonlit dunes

  Rolled forever

  Out of sight

  Then

  Without word

  Or warning

  She turned

  And moved toward the jungle

  "Just a moment"

  I said

  Not as easily

  As she had turned

  "Where are you going?"

  A feeling

  Undetermined

  Perplexing

  Came over me

  And suddenly

  I was afraid of losing her

  I had to hurry

  Trailing quickly

  As she was disappearing

  A dark enshrouded jungle

  Engulfing

  "Why not the meadows

  Where only the desert can boast?"

  I asked

  Upon catching up

  "Why not the mountains

  Where only the sand can toll

  As we walked along

  I pointed

  Down the fringe

  "There are mountains and meadows

  But a short distance

  From here"

  It seemed

  Only logical

  To walk a path

  Of less danger

  But still

  She said nothing

  Continuing

  Walking upon

  With darkness

  Closing in-

  Trees all around

  As I watched her figure

  Moving

  Swaying gently

  From side to side

  I wondered why the fear

  Of losing her -

  "What has motivated me,

  Why am I attracted

  Following

  This lady

  Into an unknown jungle?"

  Still

  Her step

  Never faltered

  Nor hesitated-

  She moved with sureness

  "It all seems strange—"

  I thought

  "The lady

  Of the fringe,

  A paradox

  Of emotions;

>   The jungle,

  Entrance

  To a new garden;

  The meeting

  Of silence;

  And the motivation

  Of attraction"

  Strange

  But still

  I followed—

  Carefully stepping,

  Watching,

  Listening-

  Strange noises

  From the dense green

  In the dark

  "Not too many

  Have coursed

  This jungle"

  I thought

  As I observed

  The path—

  It was not a path

  Of bare ground

  Of plains

  And mountains—

  Instead

  Merely

  An opening

  Between the trees

  Carpeted with grass

  Providing

  A way

  Without crawling

  Nor climbing—

  A path without leisure

  Silently stalking

  Through the jungle

  "A path

  Difficult to follow—

  Yet,

  She moves

  With confidence

  Assured

  And never pausing

  It seems

  She has traversed

  This path

  Many times before

  And now

  She finds it

  Easily

  By night

  But why?"

  I wondered

  It was curious—

  A mystery

  In the new garden-

  But

  Would it help me

  Toward the sun?

  I could only

  Follow

  And find out

  So I continued

  On

  And the dark trees

  Passed

  Slowly by

  In the night

  As we passed

  Through the jungle

  And

  Into the shadows

  Of primordial law

  The moon—

  A dim

  And seldom seen

  Light

  Through the dense foliage

  Was not enough

  To keep me, at times, from groping

  But

  After awhile

  And several miles

  Gone—

  Step after step

  Twisting,

  Turning,

  Stumbling,

  And silence, still

  Upon the path—

  Acute

  With piercing noise;

  Following

  A hazy white

  In a jungle

  Of distinct black,

  Darkness of the night

  Enclosing—

  She stopped

  To rest—

  Sitting next

  To a fallen branch

  A widened area

  In the path

  I sat down

  Also to rest,

  Perhaps sleep

  The moon beamed

  Through the widened area

  Illuminating

  Again

  I noticed

  Her physical being

  "You are not

  Of the desert"

  I said

  "Your countenance

  Is too slim—

  Your hair

  Not black

  You are not

  Of the farmers

  Of the plains people

  You have a radiance

  Of tranquility

  About yourself

  Therefore

  Your are not

  Of the coastal cities—

  And that leaves

  Only the mountains—

  Your people

  Are those of pines

  And cabins

  And dirt roads

  Upon which

  To travel

  Is that

  Not true?"

  I waited

  A reply

  Long

  In coming

  I moved closer

  The night was dark

  With sudden noises

  Constant

  And startling

  Finally

  In a soft voice

  She said

  "*Yes,

  I am

  From the mountain nation*"

  But

  She said

  No more

  Her mood was sullen

  Depressed

  Her eyes gazed ahead

  Into the depth

  Of thought

  Conversation

  Seemed useless

  Still

  I talked

  Awhile-

  With mostly questions

  But her answers

  Mostly nods

  Told me little more

  Of her being

  So,

  Having nothing

  To do

  And

  Being tired

  I stretched out

  Upon the path

  Leaning my head

  Upon the branch—

  A soft pillow

  Upon a soft bed

  In a night

  Upon hard thoughts

  Pondering,

  Dreaming,

  Sleeping

  The night passed

  Without incident

  And in the morning

  When the sun

  Forced its light

  Through the dense growth

  And

  To the chattering

  Of little furry animals

  She rose—

  I rose—

  Stretching,

  Pulling tight muscles,

  Limbering

  "Good morning"

  I said

  Waiting,

  Listening

  For a friendlier relationship

  Than

  The night before

  But

  Her replied 'Good morning'

  Was one

  With a manner

  Of distance

  And hope

  Turned,

  Waiting for patience

  She looked ahead

  And once again

  Started

  Down the path—

  What else?—

  I followed

  Behind-

  This time

  Daylight

  And walking was easier

  Being able

  To see

  Without stumbling

  On the darkness

  Walls of trees

  In light

  With tentacled vines

  Creeping

  Leafy

  And little animals

  playing

  And fighting

  Running

  Through the tops

  And

  Sitting on the branches

  Colorful birds

  With long feathers

  Perched

  And adding

  To the jungle sound

  "Truly,

  A vibrant,

  Joyful scene

  Of life"

  I thought

  But I knew

  In reality

  That

  At that moment

  Danger

  Could be waiting

  Anywhere

  Along the path

  "Danger—

  Coagulating the air

  With

  The scent of blood"

  Instead of worrying

  About future possibilities

  However,

  I continued to watch

  Little animals

  Swinging through trees

  Running

  And jumping

  From branch to branch-

  A way of life

  Fo
r the creature

  Of the habitat,

  Instinctively high—

  Above the trailing ways

  Of preying beasts

  As we walked along

  A thorny bush

  Protruded

  Intruding

  Bringing my attention

  Back to the path

  And the lady

  In front

  She swerved

  And

  I swerved

  Staying clear

  Of the needled limbs

  Stepping again

  Upon the path-

  The flowing white

  "Her white silk

  (Never torn)

  Is a signal for the beasts"

  I thought

  As I reached ahead

  And let

  The cool silk

  Slip through my fingers

  I tried to converse,

  To communicate,

  But still

  She said little

  "Why the despairing silence?"

  I wondered

  True—

  She spoke

  Now and then

  But

  There was a wall

  Of distance

  Making her words silent

  When finally reaching

  To communicate

  "What can be gained

  From this silence?"

  I asked myself - stooping

  As the path narrowed

  And found its way

  Beneath

  A low hanging branch

  "Nothing . . .

  I remember, once

  I was told

  By a Wise Man of the desert

  That

  'Experience is the teacher of Masters'

  These words

  Have remained

  In my memory

  For many years-

  Always conscious

  Of other thoughts;

  For

  In this

  And other lifetimes

  Experience

  Has shown me

  The way

  To higher truths

  As even now

  The experience of silence

  Whispers

  In my mind

  The ways

  Of the path

  Of communication

  How can a man

  Live

  Without it?

  There is

  No way,

  For

  All paths

  Coincide

  With the path

  Of communication-

  When treading

  Upon a path,

  Whether

  Slowly or quickly

  Whether

  Backward or forward,

  A man listens-

  He talks-

  But more importantly

  He communicates

  He receives

  And gives

  Of himself:

  To all who are willing

  And to all with whom he is willing;

  To himself

  Who questions, willingly,

  In time of need

  And

  When paths need to be chosen;

  To Nature

  Who is always ready to communicate;

  And

  To God-

  Love eternal

  Who always IS

  But only

  When he ceases communication

  Does he stop

  Upon the path

  And

  Listening

  He hears nothing"

  I paused

  In mental thought

  A moment-

  A snake

  Slithered across the path

  In front of the lady-

  Who,

  Unheeding,

  Continued on

  Without hesitation

  "Yes,

  Only man

  Can stop upon the path

  When

  Other men

  Or self

  Or Nature

  Or God

  Speak

  But how sad

  To turn off

  These beings composing life

  How sad—

  To turn to misery

  For love - nonexistent

  When he is unwilling

  To communicate

  With other men

  To turn to ignorance

  For answers - nonexistent

  When he is unwilling

  To communicate

  With himself

  To turn to desolation

  For beauty - nonexistent

  When he is unwilling

  To communicate

  With Nature

  When he unwilling

  To listen-

  Touching tips

  The soft noise

  Of butterfly wings;

  To listen-

  The smell,

  Sage

  The desert air

  In the rain;

  To listen-

  The taste,

  The blueberry

  Of the forest;

  To listen-

  To the sun

  When

  It brings him

  Warmth

  To turn to the void

  For the nonexistent being

  When he is unwilling

  To communicate with God—

  Yet,

  How untrue

  For

  However slowly

  Man moves

  Upon the path of communication

  With God-

  He cannot stop

  Completely

  For to do so

  Would make him

  Nonexistent-

  Everything would cease

  Yes—

  Communication

  Is being

  But

  Sometimes

  Communication

  Is poor

  Or slow

  Or sometimes

  When there is no desire

  (By man)

  There is

  No communication

  (Except with God)"

  Again

  I asked myself

  "What can be gained

  From the lack

  Of communication?—

  Nothing

  Perhaps

  I shall leave this lady

  Once through the jungle"

  My thoughts of communication

  Dispersed

  As the path widened

  And merged

  Into a jungle opening

  Within

  And far

  To the right—

  A large pool of water

  "Probably

  A watering hole

  (Common)

  For the animals"

  I thought

  The path

  Trailed

  Thirty yards to the right

  Of the pool

  Crossing the opening

  And disappearing

  Into the trees

  Between the path and pool

  Pointing toward the sky

  The green stems

  Of grass

  And all around

  The opening

  Trees

  And vines

  And bushes

  The sun shone

  Through

  Reaching ahead

  I put my hand

  On her shoulder-

  The other hand

  In gesture

  Indicated

  A grassy area

  Next to the pool

  "A relief

  For weary travelers"

  I said

  "Let us drink

  The water - life today

  For the search tomorrow"

  But as I said it

  A mental effort

  Was needed

  To free the last word from my tongue,


  My being became tense—

  For

  At that moment

  A large beast of prey

  Came bounding

  From the underbrush

  He stopped,

  Becoming intent

  Immediately

  He perceived us

  His claws

  Several inches long

  Dug the ground

  In anticipation

  His fangs gleamed

  From the flow

  Of saliva

  His snarl

  Lowered the sound

  In his throat

  And raised his lips

  (Showing masticators)

  Taut muscles

  Were ready

  "So,

  Here is a beast

  Who would bring

  An end

  To my jungle path

  It could have ended

  Back there

  Or

  Further ahead-

  But it didn't

  And it won't

  Instead

  It ends here"

  I picked up a weapon—

  The only weapon—

  A large rock

  Within a tight grip

  Whitened my knuckles

  "Quick"

  I said

  In a quiet, pointed voice

  "Run

  For that tree"

  My finger indicated

  A tree

  Twenty yards distant—

  Low hanging branches

  And strong vines

  Clinging

  Enticing escape

  But

  Instead of running

  And to my amazement

  She continued

  Indifference

  As she looked

  Upon the beast

  "*It is not

  His will

  Nor ours

  For the grievance

  Of destruction*"

  She said

  As she looked back

  To the path

  In front

  And continued

  To walk

  Her average gait

  Upon

  But

  Her words

  Offered no comfort

  I gripped the rock

  Tighter

  Walking

  Befuddled

  Not knowing

  As I stared

  At the beast—

  Dimness of life

  Surrounded by yellow

  And golden fur

  Jowls slavered

  And fangs

  Glistening

  In the sunlight

  His beady eyes

  Watching

  Waiting

  The right moment

  "For the lady

  A tearing and rending

  Death of tears

  And any time

  Now

  Will be the time"

  I thought

  The tree was then

  Fifteen yards

  Away—

  "I will grab

  The lady

  And run

  For the nearest branch

  It should be strong

  Enough—

  And perhaps . . ."

  But

  My decision

  Of action

  Came too late—

  The beast

  Made his move

  Silence in stride

  Bounding

  Leaping

  Golden

  Through the air

  Sleek

  Rippling strength

  The power to rip

  To kill

  In order to live

  To search

  To eat the food

  From the light

  Of the sun

  (Though

  I will fight

  For life—

  Perhaps

  Survive)

  To know death

  Knowing life

  And living fuller

  To let loose

  Living

  Higher

  Living again

  But begins the day

  And birth brings

  A time

  Again

  Within the cell

  I waited

  The agony of rending

  The moment

  Before parting-

  But all

  For the unexpected

  And wonder

  Bounding—

  Not the tearing

  Of death

  Instead

  He lay

  Beside the path

  Preening himself

  A bass purr

  Sang

  From his throat

  "But what is this?"

  I wondered

  And still

  In doubt

  And

  Gripping

  I retained my hold

  On the rock

  The lady

  Looked over

  Her shoulder,

  Momentarily

  "*I look

  To the past

  And

  I see you

  Searching*"

  She said

  Ignoring the beast

  "*Searching

  For an answer

  To life -

  Searching for the sun—

  Infinite wisdom*"

  She paused

  Lengthy,

  As we walked

  And gradually

  (Walking too slow)

  We passed

  From the jungle opening

  "The beast has recently mealed

  On some other victim"

  I thought

  As we moved

  Into the crowded jungle

  Green

  The lady continued

  "*A poet

  Once wrote a poem

  Which describes the life

  Of the searcher:

  'We are running upon the waves of time

  Swimming through the sands of life

  Climbing the mountain of perfection

  How high

  How long the climb

  And oh to slip

  To woe

  To cry

  To die

  Then to struggle forward

  Drudging moving tiring

  Trudging pushing pulling

  But look-

  Beating heart

  Faster,

  So fast

  For there it is:

  The top

  Now,

  Move quickly—

  Hurry

  So close

  At last

  Reaching

  Pulling

  Climbing

  Up

  Upon the top

  But look-

  Another peak

  A higher peak

  (A new low

  In the mind)

  But don't cry

  Keep moving-

  Laugh and love

  Have patience

  For this is the life

  Living

  And on a day

  Someday

  Out of the infinite chain of mountains

  Will come your mountain

  The wisdom

  To set you free

  Again

  With the infinite mode of being'*"

  As she finished

  She paused

  For a mere moment

  And turned her head—

  From her twinkling eyes

  She laughed,

  And then moved on

  "Today

  We might

  Truthfully

  Give a little prayer of thanks"

  I said

  She moved

  Silent

  I raised

  My voice

  "How is it

  You sound like the voice of Ad Infinitum

  Speaking
many truths

  But telling me little?"

  Silence

  "How can we be friends"

  I asked

  "If you continue

  Your silent ways?"

  Still

  She said nothing

  As she led

  Upon the path

  "Even discomfort

  Can be pleasant

  With a joyful companion"

  I thought

  As I looked around

  At the jungle

  "Evidently, however,

  Something

  Has disturbed her

  And she has built

  A mental wall

  To keep out the world

  Still,

  I shall wait,

  In following,

  Awhile longer

  And if my patience

  Yields no companion

  Then I shall travel,

  Again,

  Alone

  In my quest

  For the sun"

  We continued on

  Both of us

  In silence

  Tiny

  Next to the trees

  Looming over

  Twisting

  Turning

  Stooping limbs

  And moss

  Hanging down

  The day was long

  In passing-

  Fatiguing

  Sweating

  And resting only

  For short spaces

  Of time;

  Or stopping

  To pluck

  To eat

  Small golden colored berries

  Growing upon bushes

  And

  The seldom trod path

  Continued under our feet

  The shining sun

  Beamed

  Shining rays

  Upon endless vasts of green

  Two moving specks

  Moved

  Upon the path

  There was

  Green closing green

  Closing in

  Upon the tiny path

  The path narrowed

  At times

  And disappeared into a myriad

  Of vines

  Shrubs

  And grasses

  Still

  Her graceful figure

  Always moved easily

  Over the thorns

  And under the moss swinging trees

  Around the quicksand

  And

  Through the parting bushes

  As I continued

  To watch her

  My mind passed

  Into meditation

  And

  As we passed

  Upon the path

  The day passed

  With part of me

  Always watching

  Very wary

  Of the jaws

  Of the moving jungle-

  But the path

  Wound its way

  Through danger

  And yielded

  No more

  Beasts of prey

  And the sun

  Traveling slow

  Upon its path

  Through the sky

  Found its way

  To the horizon

  Yielding

  The twilight

  And dusk

  Before the dark

  The night came—

  Uneventful

  It passed

  Lying upon

  A bed of moss

  Beneath a tree

  As the jungle sounds

  Communicated

  Voicing

  The sounds of life—

  Disturbing

  But sleep

  Came easily

  After the long day

  And then

  The dawn

  And rising

  Again

  To the morning note

  Of jungle birds

  Chattering, furry creatures

  And cry of victims;

  We rose

  Again

  To trail

  Upon the path

  It seemed

  The new day

  Would bring

  Another

  Journey

  With only

  The excitement

  Of danger

  And always trudging

  Through jungle ways

  But soon

  (Traveling not far)

  Toward the end

  Of the new dawn

  The jungle ended-

  And the path laughed its way away

  "This is good"

  I thought

  "Now I can travel

  A straighter Path

  Easier-

  And the sun

  Is on the horizon"