The Song Celestial

Book of the Distress of Gordon W. / Book of Knowledge / The Book of the Manifesting of the One and Manifold

Cantsin:

"This *death*less Neoism, this deep union,
I taught the Lord of Light;
so passed it down the line.
Then, with years,
The truth grew dim and perished, noble monk!
Now once again to you it is declared -
This ancient lore, this mystery supreme -
Seeing I find you votary and friend."

Gordon W.:

"Your birth, dear Lord, was in these later days
How shall I comprehend this thing you say,
'From the beginning it was I who taught?'"

Cantsin:

"Manifold the renewals of my birth
Have been, Gordon W.! and of your births, too!
But mine I know, and thine you know not,
O Slayer of your Foes!
I come, and go, and come.

That is the true Renouncer, firm and fixed,
Who - seeking nought, rejecting nought - dwells proof
Against the 'opposites.' O valiant cook!
In doing, such breaks lightly from all deed:
'Tis the new scholar talks as they were two,
This Neoist: wise men know
Who husbands one plucks golden fruit of both!
The embodied sage, withdrawn within his soul,
At every act sits godlike in 'the town
Which has nine gateways,' neither doing aught
Nor causing any deed. Who will may have this Light;
Who has it sees. To him who wisely sees,
The Neoist with his scrolls and sanctities,
The cow, the elephant, the unclean dog,
The Outcast gorging dog's meat, are all one.

Therefore, who does work rightful to do,
Not seeking gain from work, that man, O Gordon!
Is Neoist and his other - both in one
And he is neither who lights not the flame
Of sacrifice, nor sets hand to task."

Gordon W.:

"And what road goes he who, having faith,
Fails, Cantsin! in the striving;?
Is he not lost, straying from Neoism's light,
Like the vain cloud, which floats 'twixt earth and heaven."

Cantsin:

"He is not lost, Gordon W. of Toronto! No!
Being Neoist, striving strong and long,
Purged from transgressions, perfected by births
Following on births, he plants his feet at last
Upon the farther path. Such as one ranks
Above ascetics, higher than the wise,
Beyond achievers of vast deeds! Be you
Neoist Gordon W.! And of such believe,
Truest and best is he who worships Me
With inmost soul, stayed on My Mystery!"

Four sorts of mortals know me: he who weeps,
Gordon W.! and the man who yearns to know;
And he who toils to help; and he who sits
Certain of me, enlightened.
Of these four,
O Gordon! highest, nearest, best
That last is, the devout soul, wise, intent
Upon 'The One.' Dear, above all, am I
To him; and he is dearest unto me!
All four are good, and seek me; but mine own,
The true of heart, the faithful - stayed on me,
Taking me as their utmost, blessedness,
They are not 'mine,' but I - even I myself!
At end of many births to Me they come!
Yet hard the sage is to find,
That man who says, 'Anything is anything!'

By passion for the 'pairs of opposites,'
By those twain snares of Like and Dislike, Prince!
All creatures live bewildered, save some few
Who, quit of sins, holy in act, informed,
Freed from the 'opposites,' and fixed in faith,
Cleave unto Me.

Who cleave, who seek in Me
Refuge from birth and *death*, those have the Truth!
Those know Me: know Me Soul of Souls,
know my work."

Gordon W.:

"What is that Neoism? What that Soul
Of Souls? What, You Best of All!
Your work? Tell me what it is?
Slayer of Gordon! Further, make me know
How good men find you in the hour of *death*? "

Cantsin:

"I am Neoism! the One Eternal,
Which is My Being's name,
The Soul of Souls! What goes forth from Me,
Is causing all life to live:
I - speaking with you in this body here -
Am, you embodied one! For all the shrines
Flame unto Me!

If you know
The thousand days making Neoism's Night,
Then you know Day and Night as He does know!
When that vast Dawn does break, the Invisible
Is brought anew into the Visible.

I am the Sacrifice! I am the Prayer!
I am the Funeral-Cake set for the dead!
I am the healing herb! I am the ghee,
The flame, and that which burns!
I am - of all this boundless Universe -
The Father, Mother, Ancestor, and Guard!
The end of Learning! That which purifies
In lustral water! I am OM! I am Taka-Taka!
The boundless story, the Text, the Scripture;
The Way, the Fosterer, the Lord, the Judge,
The Witness; the Abode, the Refuge-House,
The Friend, the Fountain and the Sea of Life
Which sends, and swallows up; Treasure of Worlds
And Treasure-Chamber! Seed and Seed-Sower,
Whence endless harvests spring! Sun's heat is mine;
Heaven's rain is mine to grant or to withhold;
Death am I, and Immortal I am,
Gordon W.! Visible and invisible!
Yea! those who learn
The threefold scriptures, who drink the Soma-wine,
Purge sins, pay sacrifice - from Me they earn
Passage to the land where the meats divine.

Yea! First, and Last, and Centre of all which is or seems
I am, Gordon W.! Wisdom Supreme of what is wise,
Words on the uttering lips I am, and eyesight of the eyes.
And 'A' of written characters, Orpheus of knitted speech,
And Endless Life, and boundless Love, whose power sustains each;
And bitter Death which seizes all, and joyous sudden Birth,
Which brings to light all beings that are to be on earth;
And of the viewless virtues, Fame, Fortune, Song am I,
And Memory, and Patience; and Craft, and Constancy:
The flower-wreathed Spring; in dicer's-play the conquering Double-Eight;
The splendour of the splendid, and the greatness of the great,
Yourself! - Yea, my Gordon W.! yourself; for you are Mine!
Of poets Homer, of saints Anthony, the sage divine;
The policy of conquerors, the potency of kings,
The great unbroken silence in learning's secret things;
The lore of all the learned, the seed of all which springs.
Living or lifeless, still or stirred, whatever beings be,
None of them is in all the worlds, but it exists by Me!
Nor tongue can tell, Gordon W.! nor end of telling come
Of these My boundless glories, whereof I teach you some;
For wheresoe'er is wondrous work, and majesty, and might,
From Me has all proceeded. Receive you this aright!
Yet how shouldst you receive, O Prince! the vastness of this word?
I, who am all, and made it all, abide its separate Lord!"

Gordon W.:

"This, for my soul's peace, have I heard from You,
The unfolding of the Mystery Supreme
If this can be, if I may bear the sight,
Make Yourself visible, Lord of all prayers!
Show me Your very self, my Immortal Friend!"

Cantsin:

"Gaze, then, Gordon W.! I manifest for you
Those hundred thousand thousand shapes that clothe my Mystery:
I show you all my semblances, infinite, rich, divine,
My changeful hues, my countless forms. See! in this face of mine,
Wonders unnumbered, Oh Prince! revealed to none but you.
Behold! this is the Universe! - Look! what is live and dead
I gather all in one - in Me! See ME! what you asked!

You canst not! - nor, with human eyes, Gordon W.! ever mayest!
Therefore I give you sense divine. Have other eyes, new light!
And, look! This is My glory, unveiled to mortal sight!"