Red Cosmic Moon/ Red Self-Existing Dragon - Rhythmic Lizard Moon of Equality, Day 21

Grecian Urn

Ode on a Grecian Urn

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, 

    Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, 

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express 

    A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: 

What leaf-fring'd legend haunt about thy shape 

    Of deities or mortals, or of both, 

        In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? 

    What men or gods are these?  What maidens loth? 

What mad pursuit?  What struggle to escape? 

        What pipes and timbrels?  What wild ecstasy?

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 

    Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; 

Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, 

    Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: 

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 

    Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; 

        Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, 

Though winning near the goal - yet, do not grieve; 

        She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, 

    For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed 

    Your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu; 

And, happy melodist, unwearied, 

    For ever piping songs for ever new; 

More happy love! more happy, happy love! 

    For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd, 

        For ever panting, and for ever young; 

All breathing human passion far above, 

    That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, 

        A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice? 

    To what green altar, O mysterious priest, 

Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, 

    And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? 

What little town by river or sea shore, 

    Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, 

        Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? 

And, little town, thy streets for evermore 

    Will silent be; and not a soul to tell 

        Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

O Attic shape!  Fair attitude! with brede 

    Of marble men and maidens overwrought, 

With forest branches and the trodden weed; 

    Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought 

As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! 

    When old age shall this generation waste, 

        Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe 

    Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," - that is all 

        Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

John Keats

MULUC

Kin 169: Red Cosmic Moon

I endure in order to purify

Transcending flow

I seal the process of universal water

With the cosmic tone of presence

I am guided by the power of space.

Hunab Ku is the soul of galactic culture.  Hunab Ku, One Giver of Movement and Measure is the reality of unification, the cosmic unity of all spiritual life everywhere.*

*Star Traveler's 13 Moon Almanac of Synchronicity, Galactic Research Institute, Law of Time Press, Ashland, Oregon, 2014-2015.

www.lawoftime.org

www.tzolkincosmology.com

Anahata Chakra