Saturday, May 7, 2016

Enchantress of: The Hyperborean Sea

Enchantress of:
The Hyperborean Sea

((Riddles of Death) (Part I of II))

Before the Black Sea was called or became the Black Sea, it was nothing but a plateau, a desolate desert.
In those far-off antediluvian times, after the asteroid hit the plateau, in consequence, was created the Hyperborean Sea that man one day would call ‘Black’ for from its roots, came legends.
This is where the Neanderthal would inhabit, and uncouthly carven gods would be created for myth, legends, lore and saga,
To crisscross the world, blindly.

There in this wondrous sea, came forth incredible marvels, water plumes as big as old large tree stumps.
Citadels and towers, such as the Great Tower of Kula, built out of colored marble to reach like a flame of crimson fire a thousand feet above the depths of the sea.
In the sea’s deepest apertures, roamed polar monsters that crept to and fro from the Sea of Azov, into the Hyperborean.
This was a time before the land of Mu, or Atlantis.
It was a sea of death and haunting and enchantment.
And below its watery crust, resided twenty-miles deep, a prison house for demon, such homely things, indiscreet and indescribable.  
There too, lived the She-devil of Oedipus’ days, hence, when she would be called the She-wolf;
There within that circle of time yet to be, Oedipus, King of Thebes, she would become his arch-behooved annoyance;
And to her, he would be her muse.

Besides, her given designation, as She-devil, she was: goddess, ghost, woman, demon of no light, reptilian, and creature of the sea (amphibian);
With a gibbous moon shaped head, wings liken to a bat, rotting riven ebbing dark green eyes.
And below her eyelids fovea, a patch of tightly packed receptors that delivered sharp vision, to which formed a horizontal streak instead of the usual circular spot.
As a result, she could scan (likened to a Crocodile) without moving her head, although underwater she had very blurry vision.
One even wondered if she could fly as high as to the looming hues of the moon’s airless astral surface.
She herself wondered if she could bend time and space, or having simply live through it, to await her fate!
If she could she would have walked off into a world beyond time.
And before she would meet her match, ages would pass.
She cast no shadow.
She herself, could not figure out her own riddle of death; yet it remained as an imperative voice in her soul.
With her eldritch dark, satanic hyenas, of no repute, they combed the plateaus of Ur, and watched the Ziggurats of Ur, being built.
And bowed not to the first kings of Kish, nor any thereafter.
Nor to king Gilgamesh, nor to Babel.
And she roamed to and fro and became known throughout the Mediterranean, Caspian, the Hittites, Aratta, Eiam, and along the Nile.

She wore a flimsy gown of some sea moss, crimson fabric.
Her silence provoked a solitude as if she remained in some remote place;
As if within a deep death hush, longing for the lost plateaus of where now stood the sea.
And when she appeared to her dark demonic beings, and her haven below the sea, and gathered among the archdemon of Hades, and those satanic henchman of Satan’s and the hippocampi’s of Atlantis, imps and nymphs, and ebon creatures of Tartarus, the trident ghosts of earth, and earthling, sea creatures all drew back as if at attention, in an eerie awe.
She was one of a kind, in time!

At times of anger, resplendent fires came from her eyes, and she turned into a mass of granite, a synthesis of spirit and stone and flesh;
And at times she was a pale, diaphanous, when under a bright sun, at rest.
And like a quarrying hawk, she flew over the sea as if oceanward, with crimson wings,
Climbing vertigo, to heights unseen, with a celestial beauty and no fatigue.
Even the fierce mountain eagles and the escarpment dwelling condors screamed and scattered, eyeing her approach.
Such a weird love for grandeur and nature, drew on her.

Where was her equal, her peril and disaster that might lie before her, was but a delirium of mad superhuman ascent, she knew not—?
And she outlasted the untrammeled realms of spirits before and after her.

She gave birth to the riddle and allure, and came and went as she pleased, and walked endlessly on the floor of the Hyperborean Sea.
And she wore archimperial purple, when she devised the greatest of her riddles, like an oracle of Delphi, to enchant them to her listeners.

She, the She-devil-wolf, was a descended from the Watchers.
Those angelic renegades who cohabited with womankind’s ancient ancestors—an intermingling species—of the Aurignacian and Gravettians nature, virtuoso. 
This combination produced this hyperborea-breathing creature, whom would haunt humanity with her tidings of riddles and doom, the death riddle to be given to whom?

Ah, she witnessed the Ice Ages, come and go, the burial of the mammoths, and prophesied in her riddles of death to her estranged imprisoned demon of a King yet unknown, unborn—
That she would leave a strange legacy with Oedipus, of what essence, she did not know.
And in her daily epitaphs, she wrote how she moved through man’s dreams like a bookworm through a book.
Idle more often than not, to beguile the hours and her deep thoughts, she memorized a hundred-thousand riddles—
And repeated them day to day to nominate the best of the lot.
The most entangling, and ensnarling, and unequaled, and this in time she would plant and plot, her greatest victory or emanate defeat.

Truly she was no mortal being, for at one moment she was in one spot, and then soon thereafter a thousand miles away, swift as if at the speed of light.
No human lover could she find to aspire her, nor did she seek one.
She was like to a human: frost and flame and fury, with perilous beauty, but akin to a furnace of a comet.
She breathed in ice-born air, as she did with deep seawaters!
Impregnable to man, but not to the one true God, Elohim.
And for this reason her visitations to humanity were cut short, lest she be provoked by and by, to black evil, and committed and chained by paranormal iron, to the great creviced and chasmed walls of the sea’s demonic prison, God’s sea-tombs of the living lifeless, by God’s Archangels: Ur’el, Sorr’el and Mic’el.
And there was no sorcery she could use against the spectral swirls and blinding flurries of God’s chosen archangels.
It came with careless fright should they descend for her imprisonment, or banishment, or death into oblivion; forevermore, lost to forgetfulness….
For she knew, man was made in God’s image.

In Poetic Prose: No: 5227/5-4-2016 
Copyright © 5-2016 by Dennis L. Siluk, Dr. H.c.

   A Stranger from Corinth
(Par II, to ‘Enchantress of: The Hyperborean Sea’)

(Riddles of Death)

Thus, those far-off days of shrill and eldritch, of wordless awe had ended, and now came the day of the stranger from Corinth.
And lo! The She-devil (wolf) had become known as ‘The Purging Sphinx’ of Thebes.
And with her riddles of death, many men, women and children had perished, they say by some form of black magic, that she was a necromancer, a sorcerer of sorts, and more!
From her gazebo, outside of the city’s gates, she appeared within, as if out of nowhere, and slew the people of Thebes with no pardon, and indifference—

And she had heard tell, of an exigency for a hero to come to Thebes and save them, right from the mouth of the King, and so she devised her plan.

Who is to say, why her impiety become strong, her infamous ark of crudity stronger, and well known?
Had her long life poisoned her mind?
She no longer eluded the doom that actually come concealed in a belief, a plot-like Lucifer had against God, feeling it was better to be a tragic hero than a lost cause.
And so she provoked God’s fury.
She slew King Laius, the last king of Thebes, before the stranger of Corinth came—
She slew him on his way to Delphi to seek aid.
Slain mysteriously on the road.
She thinking, he was the one in her dreams who would bring forth this man of demise, her demise.
Yet the stranger from Corinth had not yet arrived from his wanderings, to do God’s behest… 
For he would answer her riddle of death, placing it upon her own breast, the curse she so willing gave freely, in plague and sickness, jeopardy,  and fear, she would bear—

And then, soon thereafter, came forth a new dream:  ‘Lo, he has not fallen… not yet!”
And hence, the stranger arrived after the king’s death.
And he answered her riddle (Oedipus), and all was clear, she flung herself from her rock and died!
Died with doomed-eyes, avarice, drooling.
Among the people of Thebes, all were startled by a loud and splintering crash, with myriad clanging of a broken skull and neck; unerringly, she lay with her oozing brain.   

Subsequently great storms, outreaching the length of the Hyperborean Sea, gave testimony to her, passing.
And the Sea became covered with black ebon mist, and the name of the sea was changed…forevermore.
And darkness bound and became her abolition, her oblivion.

Note: 6-5-2016/#5229
Copyright © 5-2016 by Dennis L. Siluk, Dr. H.c.