The Ophanim: Creative Light, #2

By Justin Jones

Poetry of the 3rd Dynastic Arachan Empire.

A Sci Fi Hybrid Poetical story of the Mystical

When historians revisit the poetry of the 3rd dynasty, any interpretation of the complete body of work must be seen in the light of the Transcendence event of the Try'nn Era. Although understanding those who rejected the enlightenment phase of the event has been recorded extensively, it is hoped an exegetical examination of the verse of the period will allow many Arach* to revisit their decision to remain corporeal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Justin Jones
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215789452

Justin Jones

Justin is a new voice in the... Sci Fi humorous mystical genre, the hot new genre of the 21st century. He has also been frustrated by Kindle Formatting so against all conventional wisdom he wrote a book about how he does it.

Book preview

The Ophanim

Poetry of the 3rd Dynastic

Arachan Empire.

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When historians revisit the poetry of the 3rd dynasty, any interpretation of the complete body of work must be seen in the light of the Transcendence event of the Try’nn Era. Although understanding those who rejected the enlightenment phase of the event has been recorded extensively, it is hoped an exegetical examination of the verse of the period will allow many Arach* to revisit their decision to remain corporeal.

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*Arach is reference to the Arachan being of either sex, a person both singular or plural. Can be both masculine and feminine sense. Similar to Hominid man as a being of either sex or human being.

Birth

Mine eyes have seen the frozen drops

of eternity held below the southern starry

water. The sky cometh from the land upwards

to another forever, another horizon unreachable.

Water brings birth and visions

and ice the colour blue within blue.

Deep within the heart there is

an unfathomed chill of regret.

Enlightened Song

the music of an enlightened song

accompanying the celestial breeze.

Harsh stars breaking through the

black sky twinkle in time to the quarter beat.

I wondered upon this sound,

thinking of the maker of the heavens,

the golden shards of the far away worlds

shattered upon the firmament*.

Hidden from me in the mistiness of the cosmic

flush is my soul, already lost, it was claimed,

but now to be found.

In the benign wave of light,

spilling upon the rings of Lewar**,

Vir has whispered the secrets and

will reveal them to the likes of me

who think foolishly.

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*Balloon-like structures stretching hundreds of light years.

**Colloquial for the Construct phenomenon, Lewar is a ringed moon .67 of a light second from the Arach home world.

The Moon of Lewar

It was the platinum disc, sung deafly against the music. 

We called it in the long before times the hunter,

Kadipoh’s* sting, Scorpi's barb. 

Ill luck to look upon.

Poisoned, an irritable to the tide.

A maiden's hair wished upon the

web of the falling night.

And in that night a dwindling eye,

a Greater’s lust afresh bites at your throat.

Then what about the moon in the rippling

tide washing upon the shore.

There are two sides to the moon,

one we see with a monthly malaise creeping.

It is darker, speaks its mind incessantly,

ponders whether this is normal,

that a moon untouched by Arach longing or Kadip’h*

baying should be aware of the conflict in its core.

The other shines and confuses.

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*Arachan ancient civilization

The earliest Merkabahium text contains mention of the Ophanim*. It is the more traditional interpretation asserting the Ophanim as Wheels within Wheels. The more exoteric literature defined the Ophanim as community and thus the archaic Wheels passed into non-use. The preferred usage entered the broader Arachan awareness colloquially as Worlds.

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*In simple terms, two massive cosmic interlocking rings that at its centre contained a vibrant burning structure of unknown origin.

The Ophanim

Worlds within Worlds,

high above the arc of the

water firmament below

the edge of the Tabernacle Universe

sat the Ophanim.

Wheels within Wheels,

the eyes the eyes and the rims were mighty and exalted.

Do you see them,

do they see you,

the ride of the Merkabah?

The golden chariot of the great Vir Bellica,

spent in the turmoil spent in the wind.

If you could see me when I go

if you could see me when I go.

Catch the shadows across the Construct.

I hold them in my grasp, caught with a palp*

too fast for the eye or contrition.

They have lengthened over time and

cast a sunless mood across this station.

Can you let the memories bite once more

at a wound healed over but scarred?

This is what life cycles begin with

and has at its middle but not at its end

where there is only ever the echo of real things

that tried to defeat us and seeds

we have sown withered by the light

from the terrible Ophanim.

Hiding between the firmaments,

between the outside,

between the suns,

between the wind

and the minute palp*,

there exists an exit a way out,

an escape.

It