I leave it to the masters, as much as to you, to discover if there are any "occult" connections here with the "garden":
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
After the frosty silence in the gardens...
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.
The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks ...
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.
But only in time can the moment in the rose-garden,
The moment in the arbour where the rain beat,
The moment in the draughty church at smokefall
Be remembered; involved with past and future.
Only through time time is conquered.
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.
Bless me if you find any -- if not, forgive.
--- On Thu, 7/15/10, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: