The Legend of the Ancient of Days

 

ART : ‘Ancient of Days’ – a watercolour etching by William Blake, 1794

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Ancient of Days is a name for God in the Biblical Book of Daniel; in the original Aramic Atik Yomin; in the Greek Septuagint Palaios Hemeron; and in the Vulgate Antiquus Dierum. The title “Ancient of Days” has been used as a source of inspiration in art and music, denoting the Creator’s aspects of eternity combined with perfection. William Blake’s watercolour, above, is one such example.

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The Legend of the Ancient of Days

A long time ago On a star far away A great council assembled In solemn array.

The question weighed heavy On everyone’s mind— T’was the fate of the Earth, What to do with mankind.

The planet was burdened With discord and strife Human beings had forgotten The purpose of life.

They had even begun To walk down on all fours In their eyes and their souls God’s great light shone no more.

“Earth must be dissolved,” The cosmic council decreed “Her energy returned To the great primal sea.”

I, Sanat Kumara Arose from my chair And invoked Opportunity From those who were there:

“Let us give them a chance And perhaps over time These ones will remember They once were divine.

“I will show them the way I will be the front line And bring mercy to Terra If you would change your mind.”

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“My Son,” said an elder, “You know the law well— You will be tied to Terra Until your ranks swell.

“To win back her people The flame in your heart Must inspire them to love And become Freedom’s Star.

“These are new beginnings For children of man By your grace we do grant them A fresh divine plan.”

I gratefully knelt Before the Great White Throne Where the Nameless One blessed me As I left for home.

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“My son, they will call you The Ancient of Days To the Great Spirit in you Give glory and praise.

“You are known throughout cosmos For your eternal youth May your Word now spring forth Like a fountain of truth.

“I anoint you with Spirit The I AM THAT I AM, The ark of the covenant And the embodied Lamb.”

On my shoulders descended A mantle of light Power, glory and honor Love, wisdom and might.

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I bid the council adieu And returned to my star Where fair Venus awaited With Holy Kumaras.

Winged messengers had announced The cosmic council’s decision: That Earth was now granted A new dispensation.

Our daughter Meta greeted Me home with a kiss. “Father, we’re thankful,” she said “For your courage and faith.”

Though we rejoiced that night In a grand ball reception, Our hearts were weighed down By a measure of sadness.

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The pain of separation Could not be eclipsed As we thought of the loved ones We most surely would miss.

Many eons would pass Before we’d meet again Our mission accomplished Our victory at hand.

Twilight dropped upon us A blanket of peace, Our twin star gently twinkled With ethereal surcease.

Then I looked to the mountains And to my surprise, Mine eye caught a spiral Of light hovering nigh.

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T’was the souls of my children— Hundred forty four thousand Approaching our palace With joyful compassion

The anthem of brotherhood That echoed below Still rings clear through these valleys: Solstice Ode to Joy.

They reached for our balcony, Stopped, lifted their eyes, Then stepped forth to address me ’Neath violet skies.

I saw in their leader My beloved son Whose loyal steadfastness Was rivaled by none.

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“Our Father,” he said, “We have heard of your plight. We will not let you down, We will fight the good fight.

“We will prepare the way We will help tend the flame We will spread love and light We will speak in your name.

“We will be at your side When you enter the fray; We will go first to Earth, To keep evil at bay.”

Their love was so touching Their service so rare We were moved beyond words By their life-giving prayer.

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These hundred forty four Thousand, my lady and I Wept together for joy; Angel legions stood by.

Then I called from among them An hundred forty four To become our forerunners In this epic untold.

The veil was now drawn The heaven world left behind Clothed in bodies of flesh They were born of mankind.

Neither castle nor palace Would be their Earth home Rather shacks, caves and huts Humble hearths carved of stone.

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They waxed strong and matured In the ways of their kin Yet their souls would oft stir, With an urge to transcend.

T’was a deep inner memory That could not be erased A magnificent city That would now be their fate.

Came a day they set forth— Friends and family behind, To sail for blue horizons And seek holy ground.

Hearts brimming with passion, Pressing on day and night, Only intuition to guide them Toward the appointed site.

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From four corners of Earth These great pilgrims arrived Mighty warriors of spirit Crossing lands, seas and skies.

The Gobi Sea was the place Destiny had assigned For these men to accomplish Their purpose sublime.

The pilgrims had reached Their final destination Then one among them came forward To speak of a vision:

“A resplendent white city Is ours to erect Reminiscent of Venus ’n Divine architects.

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“On a lush, verdant island Seven temples our feat Focusing sacred fire In alabaster retreats.

“A beautiful bridge Will be our first task Over sapphire blue waters Where others can pass.

“Fashioned with pure white marble Engrained with finest gold, Lined with sweet cherubs carved Mem’ries of days of old.”

By the sweat of their brow Initiating the task They hauled rocks, stones and metal; Nine hundred years passed.

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Down from neighboring hills Savage hordes would attack To destroy what was built Cosmic goal now set back.

Determined and constant The pilgrims kept their pace Lifting up from the rubble Planting trees in its place.

At the top of the island The main temple was raised Where Sanat Kumara’s Blessed feet one day would graze.

Twelve marble steps Leading up to the throne That was framed with perfection By a high gilded dome.

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A massive gold door Shimmering rays in the sun Like a gigantic mirror To welcome each one.

Tall trees lined the path Leading up to the gate Reflecting pools, rainbow fountains Vibrant floral parquets.

A sacred space was created Where brotherhood shone The builders called it Shamballa To remind them of home.

The task was completed The altars were groomed With delicate flowers Picked from most fragrant blooms.

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Sanat Kumara would come now For time had run short. To depart unto Earth With his devoted court.

He bid his lady farewell In a poignant embrace And ascended o’er Hesperus Into stellar space.

The souls that convened Offered sweet hymns of praise And he blessed them sincerely With affectionate gaze.

Then to their amazement Midst a brilliant light trail He vanished away Like a comet’s vast tail.

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In Shamballa the builders Waited with bated breath For their lord to appear So to give Earth a rest.

The birds hushed their singing The seas ceased their sway And all nature grew silent On this momentous day.

Slow and majestic His feet touched the ground Then all life felt his presence Though there was not a sound.

Fresh peace, hope and comfort Each troubled soul stilled As his Great Spirit swept Over woods, lakes and hills.

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Withered flowers that drooped With new strength raised their heads, And the laughter of children Was heard once again.

The builders were happy They wearied no more And knelt in Thanksgiving To honor their Lord.

Then upon the altar The Ancient of Days With a powerful fiat Invoked a dazzling flame.

Threefold and immortal, Pink, Yellow and Blue Fount of love, wisdom, power Precious life renewed.

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From each flickering plume Flashed forth filigree threads To connect each one’s heart In a mystical web.

The crisis was over The planet sustained, And the Earth was redeemed For a new golden age.

Now the end of this story Is yours to create As you search in your soul For the keys it contains.

Close your eyes, try to see Your mighty threefold flame Anchored deep in your heart ’Tis your spiritual claim.

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Pulsating, blazing It waxes and spins Helping you find your mission So you too can ascend.

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© 2004 Therese Emmanuel Grey

http://www.sanatkumara.info/story%20of%20sanat%20kumara.htm

 

ART : ‘White Lily’ ~ Doris Joa (Above)