Long Sophia Poems
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Sophia
Fallen and broken
Once a kite of luminous splendour
Guided by the motherly wind of heaven
Broken everywhere, like a shattered mirror of light
Tossed back and forth on the ocean's ripples
Once a luna moth on the Pleroma's shore
Who saw her own light on the waves
Deceived by her own silvery allure
Soon the only-begotten sun
A child just seven days old
Saved his broken toy
His broken friend
And lost sister
Sophia
Poem written near a Cemetery 1 of 2
On 13th February 2012
While moving near the walls of a cemetery,
I saw the glimpse
Of a bunch of some tiny wild flowers,
Blooming in the golden Sunlight falling on them,
They were waving their simile,
With every gush of wind,
On the monument of a deserted grave.
For me it was a new and exciting experience,
To enter in that cemetery of eighteenth century,
What had brought me to that spot,
Where those wild flowers were still smiling,
Remains a mystery
Every time, I think and rethink.
I saw hundreds of monuments and tombs,
After entering in that preserved cemetery,
Some were telling the story,
Of the grandeurs of its dwellers,
While others were there,
Standing without a crown or a story.
The grave on which, I saw those flowers,
Was not showing an appealing face,
Age had withered its luster and charms,
And time had left its marks on its face.
Being in the last line of that cemetery
It was waiting in the long queue,
For some kith and kin of Sophia Ress,
May come some day and
The face of that noble soul’s grave,
May once again obtain its lost glory and grace.
There I found those lonely wild tiny flowers,
Still blooming and smiling and dancing,
With every gush of wind,
Telling silently a beautiful story of its dweller,
As if, they were paying their homage,
While remembering her lost songs and images.
In the morning hours of the Autumn,
The tree leaves were falling,
Everywhere on the ground,
And some were even falling on me,
Either to tell the universal truth,
Of the inevitable departure of everyone’s one day
Or perhaps to accompany me,
In that graveyard of all those,
Who were totally strangers for me.
After watching that grave and
Appreciating those tiny flowers,
I explored each and every tomb and monuments,
Standing in the memory of those British,
Who had lived a royal life during those days,
When they lived here and ruled my country,
For a very long time.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 18th Feb. 2012 concluded in Part 2
Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
"Text of the Stone on Sophia Rees Owen
In the memory of Sophia Rees Owen
The beloved wife of H T Owen Esqr.
Of the H C Civil Service, who died on the 27th
Nov.1834 aged 31 years 11months and 18days.
Leaving her husband and Six children to lament
Her loss. She was a sincere friend, a truly
Attached wife and a devoted Mother.......
Beneath stars twinkling
Sophia and Christ flew down
In the form of birds
In the form of large vultures
Vultures filled with grace
Vultures from the Great Mountains
The Mountains of Snow
They both perched on an ash tree
Whose roots go deep down
To Hades, the home of worms
Whose trunk goes high up
To the Kingdom of Heaven
They watched the white lambs
Twinkling with heavenly spears
Glittering with shields
Shining in holy armour
Gleaming with their swords
Ready to defend their home
Their faithful castle
Against the wolves of Saklas
However old fate
That serpent trapped in hunger
Wanted to slaughter
Every lamb looking upwards
Every faithful lamb
To snuff out their shining light
The light of the world
The two vultures from heaven
Knew this coming fate
And so, they sang in secret
“The home is the spear
The castle is the army
The home is the shield
The castle is the armour
The home is the sword
This small star of holy faith
Will soon disappear
When the red fire rises
From the dying earth
But after a day of toil
You will reunite
As a palace of starlight
And the lambs shall watch
As shining angels at peace
As twinkling stars of the night”
(“Conceived in Light”, 2017, original encaustic)
Miss Information
Everywhere you look
Everything you hear
Reverberates and reveals
The seductive power of Sophia
Catching our eye and ear
Whispering morsels of truth
Seeding our own discombobulated minds
With enough material
To sustain a hundred Amazon basins.
All that fecundity
Just brimming with potential
To tear us down
And in turn
Build us up again.
This is the nature of light after all
Filtering into even the darkest spaces
Planting its seeds
In elemental photon form
To one day awaken
Within the dawn.
(5/21/25)
As Lot and his wife
Left the city of Sodom
Where gnosis flourished
His wife heard Yaldabaoth’s wrath
As the two lands burned
Hearing the children crying
Her heart made blood tears
It ripped from top to bottom
Hearing the calm call
Of gnosis singing with joy
Her soul remembered
She looked back with a quick glance
Before salty rain
Became rivers on her face
In an eye’s twinkling
She turned into a pillar
A pillar of salt
A tower of white rock salt
Through which her spirit
Climbed up the stairs of wisdom
All three thousand steps
And climbed above the heavens
And reached her first home
With all those spirits who rose
From the burning wrath
From Sodom and Gomorrah
Back below, her grave
Her grand pillar of our faith
Still stands as rock salt
To be used as seasoning
For the race of Seth
A seasoning of wisdom
To awaken all
By her noble sacrifice
Of love and gnosis
So that we all may join her
With all the angels
In the Pleroma’s banquet
Of dates and white grapes
As Philip the Apostle
Said to his students
“May our complete offering
Come with much sweet salt
For we name Sophia salt
Without her, no gift is sweet”
Majesty
Who is the image of God?
Is it man?
Is it me?
Perhaps, that is the case.
That this race is to be ruled by the masculine, phallic paradigm,
Perhaps the rhyme and reason of the universe is the work of one gender,
But I know of a woman,
Who challenges such notions,
To become, To be, the gentle fabric of my being,
That was her role for a time,
But am I to define her?
I think not,
For she is a raging fire of possibility,
Her abilities out sway all of my greatest potential,
And as she discovers her power,
I marvel,
For only she could convince me,
That above me, my God cannot be defined by the androcentric bias which often
time maligns my rhymes,
That above me sits a woman as well as a man,
Who beckons to my fate and calls me to her land,
For Sophia saw in me, what this world would not notice,
And told me I could make it, when all would count me lost,
Machel I tell you, she saved me from hell,
And yet that is not her destiny,
She is Isis rising,
She is Michael descended in female form,
To be loyal to the end,
That was her mantra,
And she stood by and endured me,
Ascerbic tongue and all,
As I fall as I rise, she believes I’ll reach the sky,
But even that is not her definition,
She is a phrase too sacred to utter,
She is a word, like Maudib, too powerful to be spoken in fancy,
I tell you to be worthy of her,
To aspire to believe that I was worthy of her,
Has been my greatest challenge and joy,
To become would she knew I could be,
Has been torment and elation,
It has been a journey of introspection and transformation,
Which almost killed me,
And still I struggle,
To submit to her ascension,
To put aside my selfish glory,
That her story may unfold,
And the world may see the wonder of a brilliance untold,
To be a husband to my Sophia,
And a father to the blood stained Diamonds she bears,
This is the greatest journey,
This is the ultimate victory,
And though I fail time and time again,
Because she knows I’ll make it,
Because she believes that I can become what she sees within me,
I will rise to the majesty of her countenance,
And know manhood.
I loved a woman named Sophia—
Not a name, but a flame,
A living scripture written in curves and silk,
In her eyes, the ache of ancient saints,
In her smile, the promise of spring rain.
But I was mortal.
Soft. Whole.
Ready to kneel, to build her a throne
From the bones of my own longing.
She whispered love,
Then lay with a priest—
Not just a man, but cloaked in God.
While I wrote poems in the dark,
She prayed in tongues
Upon another’s altar.
And something in me broke—
Not like glass, but like silence after thunder.
Clean. Eternal.
The boy died that night.
In his place:
A shadow that read Marcus Aurelius at dawn,
A beast that walked alone, unchained, unweeping.
I tasted solitude like it was wine.
Bitter. Then divine.
I danced with shadows,
Sat with pain until it taught me peace.
Then—
When the fire had left my veins,
When her name was no longer a prayer but a scar,
She returned.
Barefoot, breathless, broken.
“Sophia,” I said,
But only in my mind.
My lips were sealed with ash.
My soul had turned to wind.
She chased echoes down city streets,
Searched faces, searched skies—
But I was gone.
A ghost in her story.
An absence louder than a scream.
And this—this is what love can become:
A mirror that teaches you who you are
After it shatters.
A teacher disguised as a wound.
A silence that speaks.
Now I walk not to be found,
But to be free.
Not to be loved,
But to be whole.
Let her tell our tale.
Let her cry in chapters.
Let her wonder what beast I became—
While I vanish,
Smiling,
In the pages she’ll never read.
"Syzygy"
Behind the wet dunes
fringed with seagrass
a blood crescent
kisses the forehead
of dreamer traversed
twin aeon syzygy
barefeet the velvet
sophia imprints
softly speak
like words seen
dancing across
the place between
heaven and earth
mapping deviations
non-standard
calibrating alignment
played forward through
unchartered jaded
emerald forests
where the satin skin
becomes sparkling
crystalline it shatters
like a shell disgarded, then
the body of no substance
becomes transparent
enveloped in rapturous
Devabani heralding
commands cast
from divine throats
lutes and sitars
whirling nightingales
dervishes wingspanned
accompany angelic legions
the journey melts into
deep blue mysterious oceans
easily walked, hypnotic the
transparent beckoning,
this is the way come,
come, come closer
closer, come forward,
on higher Elysian steppes
the bride smiles
an unspoken secret
and turns
the eyes are
twin windows
like doorways
opening
swallowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“Heart of a Woman”
Heart of a woman
holds the Sun
Lux Vitae Lux
Love
wins
the word
missing,
1
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)” / Placebo
https://youtu.be/vQGmLw0Aj4U
1
won
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary,_mother_of_Jesus
https://www.bbc.co.uk/religion/religions/christianity/history/virginmary_1.shtml
https://talesoftimesforgotten.com/2020/06/05/how-old-was-mary-when-she-gave-birth-to-jesus/
Sophia (Gnosticism)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophia_(Gnosticism)
LYRICS/”Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)”, Kate Bush
Many are my favorite things,
but nothing is more exciting
that ravishingly beautiful sexy ladies:
those seen in a movie theater
who light up the wide screen under
the Califonia's palm trees swaying.
Marilyn Monroe was an exceptional beauty,
not to mention the elegant Audrey Hepburn,
who many times made my silly heart burn;
and what about Sophia Loren, the Italian sex-symbol,
who attracted men of all ages, and entertained them all,
right after World War II had devasted her beloved Italy?
Today there are more glamorous stars,
and Madonna is one of them for her fabulous
acting in "Evita"...and her, big blue eyes
captured the audiences as she brightly danced;
lots of folks thought she was lewd, but what other choice
did she have, if not rise to power and be admired?
Allow me to list some more sensational beauties:
Angeline Jolie with her dusky complexion and pretty eyes;
a powerful sexiness that woos audiences worldwide,
but is it her talent or sex appleal that people admire?
And finally, another gorgeous actress, July Roberts, who besides her stunning
looks, she was brilliant in, "Pretty Woman" and "My best Friend's Wedding."
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci