THE DANCE OF THE DAY

THE DANCE OF THE DAY

A Masque

Setting- subtropical countryside, coastal Australia.

Acoustic music (flutes, guitar e.g.) could be added at appropriate places.

Many parts can of course be doubled as necessary.

CHORUS OF SLEEP

DAWN

DANCERS OF THE DAY

SOPHIA

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

GAIA

CHORUS OF THOUGHT

THE SHAPES OF EARTH

THE SHINING ONE

CHORUS OF LIGHT

VOICE OF THE STREAM

DANCERS OF THE WATERFALL

VOICE OF THE FOREST

FIGURES OF THE FOREST

SPIRIT OF LIFE

EVENING STAR

DANCERS OF THE DUSK

CHORUS OF SLEEP

SCENE

Dark stage. Faint blue light. Enter violet, veiled figures. To offstage recitation they weave around the sleeping form of Sophia

CHORUS OF SLEEP

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

Far in the far of night,

far in the boundless darkness,

in an ocean of unseen light,

sparkle the stars.

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

Far in the darkness sing

the children of the sun-

the planets ring

night's journeying.

Far in the darkness

blue-white Saturn moves,

smoothly unto

world-remembering,

through the timeless,

star-illumined view.

Far in the darkness,

far-roaming, glowing

Jupiter throws

glory of gold-yellow light,

as all-beholding,

over the violet

dome of the night.

Far in the darkness

Mars rays from high,

red-blazing point,

spreading its radiance-

brave gem in the sky.

Far in the darkness

wander the other worlds.

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

We are the bringers of darkness,

we are the driftings of dreams,

world where the wandering soul

merges with immensity,

with the ocean of unseen light.

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

Silent are creatures of day,

silent are thoughts of the light.

Silent are all in the soundless

deeps of the harbouring night.

Renewing with rest,

infusing with life,

depths of the darkness

hold the slumber of earth.

In the depths of the darkness,

in the depths of the stillness,

are the springs of rebirth,

profound in tranquillity.

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

Listen.

Listen.

Over mute mountains,

over the silent trees,

over the dew-cool grass,

hear the first whisperings

of day being born,

hear the first rustle

of Aurora, the Dawn.

Chorus of Sleep parts and exits. Pale white. Dawn enters.

DAWN

Dreamer upon the horizon of time,

awaiting the new light's awakening,

awaiting the new day's beginning,

feel in day's birth the birth of a sign-

a sign of the birth of the World.

See in light's waking- a sign,

dreamer upon the horizon of time.

Enter the Dancers of the Dawn in white and light rose-red. They move to the words of dawn.

DAWN

Dawn calls forth creating's warmth.

First there is darkness,

darkness within darkness,

darkness over the face of the vastness.

Cold is the darkness

upon the night's deep.

Cold is the darkness

within the world's sleep.

Darkness is coldest

before the new dawn.

Darkness is coldest

before day is born.

From the First Will comes the warming,

warming from start of the dawning-

invisible but enveloping

the coldness of darkness and night.

From far comes the warming,

from far comes the dawning,

from far comes first warming like love.

A slight rose hue is added to the pale white light

DAWN

Dawn brings sight the growing of light.

From the far,

from beyond the dark's horizon,

comes the first glowing,

comes the first knowing ,

illuminating vastness.

Luminous, lucent,

the first blush on the darkness,

whitening lightening,

fills air with radiance...

thus from the night

the light is reborn;

thus from the east

forever comes dawn.

Light like awareness

reveals all the Real.

Light like awareness

illumines the World.

Light like awareness

endows all surrounding

with colour and form.

Light like awareness

dispelling dark blindness,

shines from World Being..

Light like awareness

awakens clear seeing.

From far comes the dawning,

the first light of morning,

unbound by time's turning,

refound by discerning

round of the radiance-

circle of shining

sound of the light,

flower of the sight.

The light increases.

The warming grows stronger

and shining spreads high

till dark has vanished from wide sky.

The light increases further.

With thunder of light

the vision-rousing power,

day's fire flower unfolds,

dispelling dreaming hours of night.

The resounding blaze of sight,

arousing the outer view,

arises above

the horizon of time,

the edge of the world-

the abounding flowering of the day

is now unfurled.

The light increases further.

Dawn brings fine,

bright colour's shine-

the miracle of radiance.

The sun rouses day.

It beams out each ray.

The heart of the heavens

beams light into darkness

and colours sky vastness.

Fine, radiant red,

gold, orange glowing,

white-yellow sheen

expanding to far

ethereal green,

all merging into

the smooth, boundless blue.

Sun colours the view,

bright-shining on wisps

of misty, high cloud,

endowing sight's detail

on all that's surrounding.

The light increases to day.

Swung free from the far,

far edge of the earth,

sight-dazzling sun

bright-rounds the morning,

revealing world's forming.

Paling the shine of the misty moon sickle,

light rouses life from the sleep of the night.

Earth's creatures awaken to day's changing sight,

arising, renewed, to the heart of the light.

From far

the blazing rays pour down

and earth is stirred to life-

with shimmering leaves

trees drink the dawning.

With ripples of song

birds greet the morning

and the human heart

awakens to the world.

The dawn awakens

the world to living;

awakens humankind to willing,

to time's evolving.

In the light

earth's beings

experience life.

The Dancers of the Dawn part and exit.

DAWN

Dreamer upon the horizon of time,

dream in day's rising

a sign:

sign of the birth of the World,

sign of the gifts of All-Being,

sign of the gifts

to quicken true seeing,

the heart awakening sight-

Love, Light and Life.

Dawn exits. Sophia rises.

SOPHIA (as if drawing a curtain and looking out)

The day has now begun. The spread of dawn

dissolves into wide, sun-bright blue. The soul

wakes to the body sense and present time,

drawn from a tenebrous, vast-dreaming distance

to wander on the changeful paths of earth.

New-seen sun blaze brings shining day to birth,

inscribes the circle of enchanted sight.

Sophia mimes opening a door, going outside and gazing forth.

As dark is turned to outward show, the vague

becomes the detailed myriad. Grass blades,

distinct and pearled with dew-born drops of white,

slow-distanced, merge into a general green

where rising shapes of hills, the spread of fields,

the graceful forms of valley fall, are seen.

Soft-rustling breeze light-ruffles gumleaf sparkle.

Faint, feather clouds drift through the fine, high blue.

Sophia turns away from gazing out.

How different from scenes of grey streets, buildings

that single out free vision, car whine and growl

and all the other urban ugliness

where vision of creative form has failed

and earth's quiet harmony is drowned in discord.

In such a straight-lined place the stark and cold,

dead atomistic mechanism of

set, rigid logic seems to be embodied

in lifeless hues, sharp shapes and stony substance.

For such a scene inanimate, tight reason,

white corpse of thought, is deemed as adequate.

Sophia turns back to view.

Yet gazing at the world around me here

I sense a certain insufficiency

in such a method for true understanding

of all the multiplicity of life.

I feel a searching ignorance: a longing

to free perception from the yes/no code;

to lift the veil of nature's mere appearance,

to find the hidden harmony of being-

the living spirit weaving through the world.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION (from behind)

Watch and listen. Feel and form.

From silence awareness is born.

In the back Gaia appears dimly lit behind a scrim veil.

GAIA

One is in all. All is in one.

For all that lives beneath the sun-

great trees that lift leaf clusters high

towards light and life-bestowing sky;

small violets that hide in grass

that bends in waves when wild winds pass;

all live within the living one

beneath light-giving, warming sun.

Far swifts that flee and soar on blue

until they vanish from your view

or busy, blue-faced wrens that hop

from green-leaved bushes to grass top.

From hump-backed whales with mighty motion

deep-rolling through the widths of ocean

to orange sugar ants inspecting

dead insect bodies for collecting,

all things that live beneath the sun

live in one sphere, weave in the one,

are clothed in Gaia, the living earth,

the mother, the matrix, the bringer of birth.

All plants and creatures, life-created,

all things that grow, run, fly or crawl,

live in one sphere as all-related.

All in in one, one is in All.

SOPHIA (thoughtfully)

The power of abstract thought divides and parts

and, starting understanding, needs to see

each aspect cut off from reality.

But while this helps to analyse the whole

and brings the force of logic to the soul

it still disintegrates the living flowing

to single out each thing for careful knowing.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

Such thought is like a single crystal stone

set on a shelf, unliving and alone,

but still reflecting universal light

in sharpened clarity of concept sight.

Enter The Chorus of Thought in varied pastel colours. They weave to the words of the voice of contemplation.

But thought arising from true synthesis

to grasp the whole in living image-flow

is like a plant that rises from the seed,

unfolding leaf by leaf to blossom's glow.

Each part contains potential of the whole.

Like leaves unfolding metamorphosis

until they fold to bud then burst to flower

the growing image lives within the soul,

awakened by the will's own forming power.

The Chorus of Thought parts and exits.

SOPHIA (musing)

To see the wholeness is to know each part,

each stage, as living in the one, reflective

of wholeness in its growing as the plant

lives in the sunlight, air and rain and earth.

GAIA

Now gaze upon

the depths of stone

where earth's foundations

have come to form.

Feel earth's foundations,

so old and massive,

vast in formation,

supporting life's creation.

Feel how they rise

in mountains towards the sky,

arising high

to take light clouds

as their white gown-

for weight presses upward

while light streams on down.

SOPHIA

Heights draw life's wanderer. The vision's drawn

to peaks above the flatness of the plain.

The grassy, stone-spiked mountain track, in rising,

slow-twists its way to further heights,

the heights that beckon will to challenge, but

to balance this ascending make each step

a lifting countering down drag of mass.

We thus press upward with our earthly weight

And so to climb is greater effort than

to wander on a slowly downward course.

Enter the Shapes of Earth dressed in purple colours. They move with Gaia's words.

GAIA

Bones of vast earth-being,

born of boiling, fiery magma,

fire forcing from the depths,

ages passing, ages gone,

cooled into the bluish-grey

aggregate of tiny crystals,

hiding their hexagonal,

quartz-like, crystal form-

mirroring geometry

of the vastness of the light,

fixing in their forming to

frozen immobility.

Bones of vast earth-being,

basalt mountain bears

craggy columns of dark rock,

presses mighty masses toward

measureless and light-filled sky.

Dark and deep, dense and steep

bones of vast earth-being

taper towards the sunlit top,

raise themselves into the sky.

Keeping stillness, keeping stillness,

mountains measure time by ages,

given basis and supporting,

guarding stillness and deep silence.

Bones of vast earth being,

based upon gigantic weight,

pressing patient earth towards sky,

stand here as vast, stony temples,

giving those who stand on heights

gaze that takes the distances,

gaze where detail mingles, merges

into vaster overview.

Gently the Shapes of Earth vanish.

Sophia stands on the summit.

SOPHIA

I've reached the top from where I see free sky

yet feel the mountain weight sustaining me,

supporting, firm beneath my feet. To rise

we climb while bearing weight and yet this very

earth-born solidity sustains our steps,

supports the steady, firm-achieving way

of patience-strengthened will. So it is worth

the willing climb to see the view of earth

before the spread of sight. The outlook's wide,

from forest slopes to peaceful valley green,

to ridges with long, craggy sides and distant,

blue ranges fading to the far horizon,

where earth meets sky upon the rim of world.

GAIA

In the intuition

of the overview

sense and know,

above, below.

the living flow

becoming to become-

one is in all;

all is in one.

In the stillness

of the stone

find and feel

image of the power of presence,

stillness of enduring depths.

Exit Gaia

SOPHIA

Now standing in the silence of plain being

but raising vision from the depths to heights

I view the distances of blue above-

the brilliant blue that from the zenith height

down-spreads in all directions to sight's circle

where earth's solidity and certain shape

bounds boundlessness with far horizon's ring.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

Now let impression of the living

fill inner quietness and

all that the heart is feeling now.

SOPHIA

Forgetting earth, suppressing memory,

the flickering shadows of ever-changing thoughts,

for silent moments holding these away,

I gaze into the boundless, boundless blue-

the mood of blue infinitude moves through

the stillness of my soul, through my awareness;

the filling wonder of the boundless far,

until the smooth hue of the far and vast

grows to transparency of pure light-

a boundless living light, unseen to sight.

Sophia pauses, silently gazing on outward

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

The human's born

from vast world being

and deep within

preserves true seeing

to waken with wonder

revering the vision

of the endless and timeless.

SOPHIA (quietly)

From calm awareness of the widths of world,

returning strengthened to the centre, now

I feel within another subtle knowing-

the image of noumenal light, a sight

that lies beyond the sphere of earthly living.

In the back, brightly-lit behind a scrim veil, The Shining One appears clothed in white.

THE SHINING ONE

All is in one. One is in all.

For all is in the all-embracing sky.

For all that lives, lives in the sun-

breeze-billowed clusterings

of eucalyptus leaves that grow

on forest trees all gleam and glow

within the ever-spreading light

in which they weave their life.

From far the eagle gazes from the height.

She rises, proud to live within the shining,

wide reaches of day's radiance.

Below the round, gold daises mirror sun

and bright-winged butterflies flit by,

like flashing colours from the sky.

Lake waters shimmer with the rays of sun

where ripples shatter bright reflection

to spin a dance of glancing sparks.

And all that lives lives in the light,

and all that lives lives in the sky,

and all that lives lives in the air

warmed and illumined by the sun,

the shining realm, the world of day

that chases primal night away,

illuminator of the sight

that lives within the living light.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

The light reveals the distances of world.

Thus joining contemplative thought to vision

feel livingly your being in World Being.

If you would know your own real being

then gaze about on all sides in the World.

If you would see and truly grasp the World

then gaze into the depths of your own soul.

THE SHINING ONE

So gaze upon the heights of heaven's light,

the light that brings to birth clear sight.

Feel far the spreading of the light,

the shining and bright, the radiant might,

flame flower of the day unfurled

that rays its radiance throughout the world.

Feel how it pours its power

from vast, encircling sky,

how it covers earth's darkness

with colour's right gown-

weight presses upward,

light streams on down.

The Shining One assumes a radiating gesture in the St Andrew's Cross position. Enter the Chorus of Light, dressed in white and golden-yellow. They move to the words of The Shining One.

THE SHINING ONE

Light wells from afar,

illumines the view

and spreads through the air

and brings the sky's blue.

Light wells from afar,

creating earth's hue.

It whitens air's haze,

makes far mountains blue.

Light wells from afar,

enlivens the eye,

lights all clothed in matter

that's under the sky.

In the fields of the light

pass the drifting, bright clouds

as they shine, gleaming white,

as they float, ever-changing,

ever changing float by

over blue depths of sky.

On the flow of the river

light sparkles and gleams,

reflecting its beams

on ripples that shiver

with wind's soft caress,

on the flow's endlessness,

reflecting bright glowing

as dancing on flowing.

On the leaves of the forest

light shimmers and shines

on the tops of hoop pines,

on the tall eucalypts,

on the waxy, fig leaves,

on the flame of the silky oaks'

orange, spring flowers

that dance to soft breeze,

on the wings of king parrots-

through all living powers

light shimmers and weaves.

Light flows from afar

and fills all the boundless

vastness of blue,

enticing the sight

to far distant world views-

far distance from where

light fills all the air,

far distance unfurled

as light wells over worlds.

The Shining One and The Chorus of Light exit.

SOPHIA

From bright, far realms of light, from searching height

abundance of bold splendour dazzles sight,

until at last I feel a need to seek

the valley's shade, descending from the peak.

Sophia mimes walking down the mountain path.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

Do not fly merely to the heights,

aspiring to a groundlessness,

for then is lost firm truth of human life.

Do not sink merely to the depths,

engulfing thus a rigid firmness,

for then is lost fine life of human truth.

The Chorus of Thought enters and weaves to the words of The Voice of Contemplation

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

Know your Self-

the human centres in

dynamic balance of world forces:

bringing being's firmness

to the widths of awareness,

bringing being's light

to the depths of existence;

calm-centred in

the vast and far,

illumining

the dark and deep.

In living balance life is found.

Weight presses upward,

light streams on down.

The Chorus parts and exits. The Light dims. There is the sound of water.

SOPHIA

The valley stream starts on the mountain side

with raindrops, clear-bright, falling from the sky,

to mingle and to pool then flow and run

and laugh and chatter down in little rills

that join together, one by one, like twigs

that join to stronger branches that in turn

will merge into the central flow of trunk,

just so these flow together till they form

the gurgling passage of a stone-bed creek

that wanders, ever-growing, through the greenness

of sturdy forest gathering by its banks

until it finds the steep cliff face and plunges

down to the depths as falling drops that spray

and veil rock faces with a shimmering veil.

There is a sound of waterfall. Moving dots of white light (from an illumined rotating sphere) pass over the stage.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

The practised mind of day perceives,

with needed clarity, the outer detail.

But if, in silence-woven contemplation,

what's seen and heard is let resound within

phenomena can speak to inward sense.

SOPHIA (musing)

The river waters run and yet the shape

of flow remains-and all the gurgles, trills,

and tinklings of the sounding stream are merged

into the soothing voice of water running.

VOICE OF THE STREAM (accompanied by tinkling flowing arpeggios)

Life's form is born from flowing.

Abiding comes from freely going.

The flowing flows in time

and time itself is like a flow.

For all that's seen is like a stream.

Day follows night, night follows day-

all flows in form upon its way.

The seed becomes the shoot.

The shoot sends roots to earth,

and spreads small leaves to light.

The leaves arise in spirals growing

till they contract to form the bud.

The bud awakens blossoming;

the flowers transform to fruit

and in the fruit there shapes the seed.

The rain falls from the clouds

and runs upon the earth.

The trickles grow into a stream;

the stream becomes a river.

The swollen river finds the sea.

And from the ocean’s vastness

the sun-called clouds arise

and drift in wind across the land

and gather into storm and rain

and rain runs off in trickles once again-

for all that’s seen is like a dream.

And even mountains rise and fall.

Abiding comes from freely going.

Knowing comes from changing knowing.

Life’s form is born from endless flowing.

SOPHIA

I see that intellect reveals appearance

clear-classified in seeming-lasting form-

like stone that seems to sight a lasting shape

as long as it can hold its substance firm.

The stream runs otherwise. It sculpts its path,

its ever curving, winding forming’s way

by endless flowing through of substance,

as do indeed all life-created things.

Likewise imagination when it grasps

a true creative metamorphosis

partakes of living flowing, finds life’s power,

envisaging the real within the wholeness.

The sound of the waterfall increases. The Dancers of the Waterfall enter in white and blue. They move to the words of the Voice of the Stream.

VOICE OF THE STREAM

Gently the stream, softly trilling and burbling,

flows from the slopes higher up in the hills.

Gently the stream softly mumbles and gurgles

over smooth pebbles and past the hard boulders

finally reaching the clifftop’s sheer falling.

Suddenly leaping

into the light,

into the airy

spaces before it,

tumbling and twinkling,

free to fall downwards,

streams the clear water.

Flow is now flying,

flow is now fleeing,

drops now free-falling,

falling and sparkling,

ever on downwards.

Veiling the rockface,

blown by the breezes,

misting the atmosphere,

crashing cascades

splash into round

pool deeps below,

sounding soft thunder.

Yet the wild altering does not deny

way of the waters that, yielding and flowing,

form to their nature, resuming their going.

Gently the stream, softly trilling and burbling,

flows from the pool at the base of the cliff.

Gently the stream softly mumbles and gurgles

over smooth pebbles and past the hard boulders

finally reaching slow valley’s cool shadows,

peacefully passing beneath the great trees.

The Dancers of the Waterfall part and exit.

THE VOICE OF THE STREAM

In the world of the living

form’s born of life’s flowing.

What is alive

is still becoming.

What has become

is already going:

the brown leaf drifting to the forest floor.

But in the living world

what has become

gives birth to becoming.

The fallen fruit envelops seed;

the fallen seed returns to earth;

but from it new life’s born.

The day becomes the night.

The night becomes the dawn.

From wisdom comes movement;

from movement comes form.

Sophia walks onward. Light fades to green.

The sound of the waterfall fades away.

SOPHIA

The light is filtered to a twilight forest greenness

by giant and skyward-reaching trees. The breeze

is muffled by a million leaves: huge ferns

unfold their fronds in delicate division,

and mottling mosses mantle trunk and stone.

And all around the forest silence sounds

a ground of quiet peacefulness pervading

the spaces of this living, breathing world,

a place where little sounds of life seem louder

in living silence settling on the soul.

THE VOICE OF CONTEMPLATION

In silence awareness is born-

awareness of the livingness

that weaves through all the world.

Awareness is born within silence-

awareness of calm sharing

with all the life that weaves around.

Born in silence is awareness-

awareness of communing with

the vast and all-pervading

Spirit of all life.

THE VOICE OF THE FOREST

The faint, far rustle of high leaves,

the whispering voice of the forest,

speaks of the quietness

of the growing and weaving of life.

The quietness of

the growing and weaving of life

speaks to the voice

of silence in the heart.

The Figures of the Forest appear in green and brown. They hold poses like trees. As the Voice of the Forest continues, they start to weave softly, finally breaking free to move gently to the words.

THE VOICE OF THE FOREST

Beneath the leaves of mighty trees

that weave shade’s canopy

cool is the air. Day’s dazzling glare

dims to tranquillity.

The breeze is slow. The sun’s white glow

is mellowed, filtered green

to brown leaf-spread on forest bed

where great roots creep unseen.

Beneath the weave of a billion leaves

the small birds pipe and trill.

And moss has grown upon each stone

where secret earth lies still.

Once stone was flame. Upon the plain

flowed liquid fire death.

Volcanic show spilt lava flow,

filled air with burning breath.

This cooled to blocks of blue-gray rocks-

the covering basalt seam…

but time had hands no stone withstands-

the wind, the rain, the stream,

the flame of light, the cool of night,

the roots’ slow burrowings.

Red soil was made. Stray seed was laid-

the forest life begins.

Rainforests hold and so enfold

their own cool atmosphere.

Each tree-fern frond, so fine and long,

unfolds green fountains here.

The clear stream flows, soft-mumbling goes

on over rounded stones;

and in green deep, bright pigeons peep

or coo their liquid tones.

Roots buttressing, hold figs that fling

far branches towards the sky;

and in a flash rosellas dash,

so swiftly hurtling by.

A vast black bean wide-weaves a screen

of leaves against day’s glow;

with other trees, spreads canopies

that shadow all below.

Straight palm stem legions in these regions

unfold each leafy crown.

With golden eyes, a treefrog cries

where drying sun’s dimmed down.

Brush turkeys raid the forest’s shade

for insects in leaf litter;

while highest leaves where high wind weaves

far-sparkle with sun-glitter.

The staghorns there that live in air

adorn wide trunks of brown.

Tough vines embrace the branching space

and spanish moss drapes down.

The forest’s wealth is life itself-

a deeper sense of seeing.

And past what’s seen, the outer green,

a feeling for life’s being.

Beneath the weave of a billion leaves

that shape shade’s canopy,

here you can find the seeing mind

becomes tranquillity.

In the last few lines the Figures of the Forest gracefully exit, one by one.

Sophia walks on. The light changes to a delicate cherry-blossom colour.

The figure of the Spirit of Life, robed in white appears dimly behind the scrim veil.

THE SPIRIT OF LIFE

All life is one.

The hand with which we strike our foe

is also striking our own face.

The speech of earth and sky,

the song of light and dark,

the weaving of all living beings,

are one within the word of life.

SOPHIA (contemplatively)

So now I feel within myself as being

within the Being of the World- alive

within the differentiated, flowing

but single life of all. Once more I feel

faint image of some presence in my soul.

SPIRIT OF LIFE

From the glide of the moon,

from the power of the sun,

from the starlight afar,

coming to the living world

flow hidden harmonies.

For all is interwoven;

all that lives

lives in the spirit of one life.

So seeing this,

so feeling this,

allow a pure love

to flow out to all being,

to outstream from

the secret depths of heart.

The cherry-blossom light fades and the Spirit of Life disappears. A white and yellow light comes up. Sophia walks upward.

SOPHIA

Once more I gaze upon the spread of plains,

the swell of hills, the long green valley’s fall.

But now the day is dying. Shadows show

time-sculptured earth forms clearly to my sight,

in these: the last and slanting rays of light.

The flowing fields and clusterings of trees

and nearby bladey grass and westward clouds

all mellow in the gold light of the sun

as it sinks low, a globe of pure fire,

upon the vast horizon of the west,

while in the east its fading light is mirrored

in shining of ethereal rose hue.

And soon the night will come. The day is done.

The whole world’s hushed in dusk’s departing glow.

Far crows flap home, through lingering, last light,

to roost in darkening treetops. And soon

first stars will peer from darkened vastness. Soon

I too shall rest. Day’s vivid detail merges

into night’s immensity and fades away.

But what has gone lives on within- the light’s

own revelation of the script of life.

Just as the light of day must fade, so must

all that is manifest in matter’s cloak

partake of passing time and some time vanish.

Is there some essence from experience

remaining when the outer form has vanished,

eternal and reborn like light at dawn?

Can deep and silent contemplation find

in inner image nature’s manifesting,

a deeper essence subtly weaving through

sense-tapestry as living spirit power?

In such a silent mood I gaze upon

the disappearing of the day, seeing

through darkening, fine, violet, vast sky,

the western star of evening, white-shining,

like a drop of light upon the growing darkness

or like a distant guide through night’s beginning?

The Evening Star appears on yellow-white. He stands with hands outspread level with the heart, feet apart in the form of a pentagram or “Star of David.”

EVENING STAR

Watcher upon the horizon of time,

silently viewing the day’s swift decline,

awaken in watching a sign,

a sign of the future of time-

oh, watcher upon the horizon of time.

Enter the Dancers of Dusk, in gold and red. They move to the words of the Evening Star. The light reddens.

EVENING STAR

The blazing sun that lights earth’s way,

the focus of proud, outer sight,

is reddened with the ageing of the day,

departing as the passing of the light.

And so the gazing soul, the seeing self,

enveloping the vastness of this view,

the burning blaze, gold-red,

of world-encompassing, deep radiance,

looks back to deeds of day,

experience in time,

and knows itself as soul and self,

as living being given

the gift of light and life.

The redness pales to golden light.

EVENING STAR

Though now the sun has set

a last glow lingers yet-

and though day’s brilliant eye has gone

time spirals onward, ever on.

For all that’s done and all that’s seen

does not just vanish like a dream-

for what has been is like a seed

that blossoms in a future time.

Though light is flying, what your eyes

have seen works ever on

in thought and memory,

as self begins to realize

a developing of inward seeing

into the depths of being.

The light dims further.

All that’s gone is not a dream-

for wisdom lives like light unseen,

for what has been is like a seed.

The light dims to pale yellow light.

Now dusk is dwindling into dark-

but wisdom sees beyond the outer sight

and finds at last life’s hidden light;

and knows all passes to be born once more,

just as new day arises, phoenix-like,

up from the ashes of the night.

So from true knowing rises love:

from love arise the deeds of love,

as from the once and ever-risen,

awakened within

the secret depths of heart.

The Dancers of the Dusk part and exit. The light diminishes to a faint blue light. It comes up on the Evening Star.

EVENING STAR

Watcher upon the horizon of time

gaze into the darkness,

into the endless,

star-patterned vastness.

Ponder on the depths of being,

the unseen essence and

the ever-becoming.

So see in day’s passing a sign,

a sign of the meaning of time,

life, light, and love.

The Evening Star exits. Sophia mimes entering her house. She sinks into sleep. Enter the Chorus of Sleep. They weave around Sophia as offstage recitation is given.

CHORUS OF SLEEP

Last-passing, fading sheen of blue

has dwindled from the dusky west.

And all the beings of the day

sail toward the harbour of night’s rest.

The eagles of the sun-bright air

have sought high ridges’ darkened trees.

And on one hill a blue gum’s branches

hide drowsing crows in their dark leaves.

The keys of life are in night’s keep

and humans head for rest and sleep.

Sleep is the other side of life-

the darkness that sustains the light,

the secret blessing of dark being,

refreshing outer thought and seeing.

Return, return on slumber’s breath,

to silent world-eternal depths.

Disappearing of day’s light

wakens creatures of the night,

by the rising moon’s wide beams

softly passing like quiet dreams.

A large-eyed owl wings through the silence.

Brown possums climb, dark leafy branches.

The shadow forms of flying foxes

flit by past moon-bright cloud.

A watchful tawny frogmouth perches

upon the top of a dead, black tree

and soft, pale-patterned moths are massing

upon a lighted windowpane.

Far in the far of night

shimmers the light,

sparkle the stars.

And the sleepers are silent

while the spirit had flown

far on the wings of dream.

We are the dancers of darkness

enfolding the slumbering one,

one resting within

the Being of the World,

one merging with immensity.

Far in the far of night

shimmers the unseen light

where the future is weaving

from the deeds of the present-

within the silence,

within the stillness.

And far the stars sparkle

and shimmer with light,

far in the far of night,

in the measureless immensity,

in the depths of tranquillity.

Far in the vastness

is mystery.

The Chorus of Sleep parts and exits.

Lights fade.