Preface:
I had the ultimate goal in mind to write my own "Kubla Khan" that would withhold an individual's real experience of the same complex and majestic journey originally illustrated by Coleridge. I began with the root of Samuel Coleridge's Kubla Khan, which uses inevitable pain to journey towards a Nirvana of imagination. In this case, imagination was a state of mind, a sort of immortal consciousness, within a mortal plane of existence. To expand, in Hinduism there are seven planes of existence. These planes can be taken into account within any religious practice. They are simply the spiritual goals we take towards the perfection we have only through the divine, in my case, God. These planes consist of Physical, Astral, Mental, Unity, Spiritual, Divinity, and Manodic.
The Physical Plane, is the human body and its experience of societal living. The Astral Plane comes second, as the soul dwelling in the body having its own personal existence outside of the mind of society. Mental is a plane in which one has the ability to form a thought and transmit it to another living being without any spoken word or action. The fourth plane is Unity, a realm of pure consciousness free of selfishness and ego. The Spiritual Plane is when the individual is constantly gaining spiritual wisdom and knowledge. The Plane of Divinity is the plane in which our souls were originally created; and the place we work to get back to throughout our lifetime. The Plane of Divinity is also known as Christ Consciousness, where Jesus Christ dwelt during his time on earth. Finally the Monadic Plane, a plane of total oneness, The I AM presence, a complete unity with God.
While writing this piece, and eventually the entire collection, my goal was to follow the structure and pattern that Coleridge's The Kubla Khan follows. The path of chaotic pain transforming into a creative nirvana, or an eden if you will. The reader first sees the bubbling of the negative experience, and finally its explosion. Following this, is a chaotic flow of the traumatic experience. An experience that tests faith and self, yet at the end the reader feels a sort of peace beginning to enter. Third, is the settling of the dark, chaotic energy with a full entrance of hope. Lastly, is a fully separate experience. As if someone pressed fast forward, the reader now sees a tranquil light and final destination, and the toxic experience has been cleansed. But cleansed through what? Trauma that was cleansed through an explosive interaction of creativity and imagination, that ultimately led to a meditative state of existence. I would like to think that the last part of this journey is as close as a mortal can get to the Christ Consciousness, or Plane of Divinity.
The Kubla Khan I wrote, just like the collection that follows, takes the reader along with me through through a dark loss. However the point is not the death itself, but the realization that perhaps death does not exist. Themes and images such as; our bodies as an incarnation of the earth, deer, ice cream, and water all lead into the entrance of hope. That seperate experience shows the girl finding peace within herself, and entering her own paradisiacal eden. The mediation is where the reader sees this girl finally transcending above the traumatic loss.
A Kubla Khan:
In a black wooden chapel, I sat,
as a priest said "God is love." He
claimed that demons were created in specific habitat,
Hidden in our flesh with our trauma, sly as a cat.
"No wonder they're so hard to see."
Are these walls physical or rhetorical?
Yes, both. Perhaps. As long as my demon is not eternal.
There had been a crucifix,
set between two crimson stained-glass windows.
Can demons enter a holy place with a hand of trick?
Can this cross see my memory of the shadows?
Like Eve, I am a fallen woman with no armor.
God is love, the priest said. Abstract,
total, always right around the corner,
And slightly out of reach, yet all too near.
Since that night I had been waiting to be taken aback
by a face to face interaction
With my sister, a flesh incarnation.
I thought she came; in the form of earthy eyes,
Weeping green leaves growing from her thighs,
and a wind that hugged me like a soft stone.
God is love. I placed my demon upon God's throne.
I do not think commanding trauma gone is wrong...
not if it means warding off that demon,
cleansing my home of his deception.
Water flows, taking shape of its surroundings, it's strong.
It does not resist when faced with an obstacle,
And on its enemies, water will fall.
Humans are made of roughly 65% water,
Or at least I've been told. And although
details of that accident are a blur.
I'm sure she will watch me from heaven like a show.
Hidden in those willows, I am beginning to learn.
Now I must finish preparing for Love's great return.
~~~
Skin that coils and shivers.
Flesh that pulses and melts like honey.
Bones that flex and lock into place.
A soul that softens and retreats, with no trace.
I am myself, whoever self may be.
Becoming raw within my desire and emotion,
traveling to places often forbidden, considered psychopathic
in nature by a greater societal communication.
This spiritual nudity and self-exploration, empathic,
the anatomy of human existence, prayer,
is as close to heaven as a sinner can get.
Standing in the open air,
I have opened up my belly with care,
And gracefully rise up, sweet as a pear.
Through my own backbone, which is now softly lit.
sipping from my ovaries, resting on my rib cage.
Flowers press against my skull with basil.
In my castle, there is no grungy pit.
