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XXII. Pot-pouri
The roses are falling. This is the night of the full moon whereon the children of Sin attend the Sacred Circle.
Therein they will sit divided---but not for love's sake---for they know Thee not---O Beloved. Into the Elements, the fiery, the watery, the airy and the earthly Signs are they divided when they gather at the Full Moon within the forest.
I wandered down the deep shadowy glade, there I espied a tiny sachet of pot-pouri, dropped---maybe---from the streaming girdle of one of the maidens.
Tenderly I raised it. Its perfume is like unto the perfume of her I love. She, too, perhaps, has heard the call of the moon and is even now on her way to the secret tryst.
But hast Thou not said: "Let there be no difference made among you between any one thing and any other thing; for thereby cometh hurt." What matter then the name of the maiden? What matter the flowers of which it is composed?
Yet dare I not burn this incense unto Thee, O Beloved, because of Thine hair, the Trees of Eternity.
Oh! Little sachet of pot-pouri, thou hast reminded me of her I love, for the roses are falling, it is the night of the Full Moon and the children of Sin gather to attend the Sacred Circle.
XXIII. Red Swansdown
It hath been told how Parzival shot and brought down the Swan of Ecstacy as it winged over the Mountain of the Grail.
But there is within the archives another story, unheard by the ears of men.
From the breast of the Eternal Swan floated one downy feather, steeped in blood. This did the youngest and least worthy of the Knights hide tenderly in his bosom till he concealed it within the hard pillow of his lonely couch.
Night after night that holy pillow became softer; sweeter and sweeter were his dreams. And one night---the night of the crowning of Parzival---he was granted the Great Vision wherein the Stars became like flecks of Swansdown upon the Breast of Heaven, each living and throbbing, for they were steeped in Blood.
Then did every atom of his being become a Star racing joyfully through the Great Body of the Lady of Heaven. Thus in sweet sleep came he into the Great Beyond.
Grant unto me Thy Pillow of Blood and Ecstacy, O Beloved!
XXIV. Passing Clouds
A dark night: Not a star is visible, but presently the moon shines out through a rift in the clouds. And I remember, "The sorrows are but shadows, they pass and are done, but there is that which remains."
Yet is the moon but illusion.
A dull day: but presently the Sun is seen as the clouds are dispelled by His light.
Is He that which remains?
Night once more: the Sun is lost to sight, only the moon reminds me of His presence. The clouds scud swiftly across the Sky and disappear.
Thy Star Body is visible, O Beloved; all the sorrows and shadows have passed and there is that which remains.
When clouds gather, let me never forget Thee, O Beloved!
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