#grymm.lore

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒

In this kingdom / the sun never sets; / under the pale oval / of the sky / there seems no way in / or out, / and though there is a sea here / there is no tide. / For the egg itself / is a moon / glowing faintly / in the galaxy of the barn, / safe but for the spoon's / ominous thunder, / the first delicate crack / of lightning. "Egg" — Linda Pastan

𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒕

𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒,

OṂ ĀḤ HŪṂ BODHICITTA MAHĀSUKHAJÑĀNA DHĀTU ĀḤ OṂ RULU RULU HŪṂ BHYOḤ HŪṂ

From the field of reality’s expanse, uncreated and pure, Within a celestial palace, which is a seminal point [of light], pure, unceasing, and radiant, Through the natural expressive power of one’s own mind, uncontrived and empty, Intrinsic awareness, radiant and empty, arises in the form of Vajrasattva, [Seated] upon a bejewelled throne adorned with lotus, sun and moon [cushions]. Excerpted from The Tibetan Book of the Dead (2007) — Padmasambhava, Karma Lingpa. Translated by Gyurme Dorje, written and edited by Graham Coleman.

𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒

Why shouldst thou fear the beautiful angel, Death, / Who waits thee at the portals of the skies, / Ready to kiss away thy struggling breath, / Ready with gentle hand to close thine eyes? / How many a tranquil soul has passed away, / Fled gladly from fierce pain and pleasures dim, / To the eternal splendor of the day; / And many a troubled heart still calls for him. / Spirits too tender for the battle here / Have turned from life, its hopes, its fears, its charms, / And children, shuddering at a word so drear, / Have smiling passed away into his arms. / He whom thou fearest will, to ease its pain, / Lay his cold hand upon thy aching heart: / Will soothe the terrors of thy troubled brain, / And bid the shadows of earth's grief depart. / He will give back what neither time, nor might, / Nor passionate prayer, nor longing hope restore, / (Dear as to long-blind eyes recovered sight,) / He will give back those who are gone before. / O, what were life, if life were all? Thine eyes / Are blinded by their tears, or thou wouldst see / Thy treasures wait thee in the far-off skies, / And Death, thy friend, will give them all to thee. "The Angel of Death" — Adelaide Anne Procter

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉, 𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒆.

𝐀 𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, / And Mourners to and fro / Kept treading - treading - till it seemed / That Sense was breaking through - / And when they all were seated, / A Service, like a Drum - / Kept beating - beating - till I thought / My mind was going numb - / And then I heard them lift a Box / And creak across my Soul / With those same Boots of Lead, again, / Then Space - began to toll, / As all the Heavens were a Bell, / And Being, but an Ear, / And I, and Silence, some strange Race, / Wrecked, solitary, here - / And then a Plank in Reason, broke, / And I dropped down, and down - / And hit a World, at every plunge, / And Finished knowing - then - / "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain- (340) — Emily Dickinson

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 -

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍

There pass the careless people / That call their souls their own: / Here by the road I loiter, / How idle and alone. / Ah, past the plunge of plummet, / In seas I cannot sound, / My heart and soul and senses, / World without end, are drowned. / His folly has not fellow / Beneath the blue of day / That gives to man or woman / His heart and soul away. / There flowers no balm to sain him / From east of earth to west / That's lost for everlasting / The heart out of his breast. / Here by the labouring highway / With empty hands I stroll: / Sea-deep, till doomsday morning, / Lie lost my heart and soul. "There Pass the Careless People" — A. E. Housman

𝑳𝒊𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍.

𝐎𝐇, 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋, 𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐖

You have dragged me on through the wild wood ways, / You have given me toil and scanty rest, / I have seen the light of ten thousand days / Grow dim and sink and fade in the West. / Once you bore me forth from the dusty gloom, / Weeping and helpless and naked and blind, / Now you would hide me deep down in the tomb, / And wander away on the moonlit wind. / You would bury me like a thing of shame, / Silently into the darkness thrust, / You would mix my heart that was once a flame / With the mouldering clay and the wandering dust. / The eyes that wept for your sorrowful will / Shall be laid among evil and unclean things, / The heart that was faithful through good and ill / You scorn for a flutter of tawdry wings. Body text excerpted from "The Body to the Soul" — Eva Gore-Booth Title — Rumi

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝑰 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂 𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔.

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

A Bird, came down the Walk - / He did not know I saw - / He bit an Angle Worm in halves / And ate the fellow, raw, / And then, he drank a Dew / From a convenient Grass - / And then hopped sidewise to the Wall / To let a Beetle pass - / He glanced with rapid eyes, / That hurried all abroad - / They looked like frightened Beads, I thought, / He stirred his Velvet Head. - / Like one in danger, Cautious, / And he unrolled his feathers, / And rowed him softer Home - / Than Oars divide the Ocean, / Too silver for a seam, / Or Butterflies, off Banks of Noon, / Leap, plashless as they swim. "A Bird, came down the Walk" - (359) — Emily Dickinson

𝑾𝒉𝒐'𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌?

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑.

Avian humanoids are a common motif in folklores and mythologies from around the world. From the sacred annals of Egypt to the syncretized Greco-Roman and Christian aesthetics during the European Renaissance, the depiction of humans with wings has always symbolized the transformative power of movement, and thus the ability to change. Wings have been historically associated with the “heavenly world,” a place where ground-born humans could only reach after attaining a higher plane of existence — in other words, godhood. Many creation myths evoke a world of gods living in the skies, their lordship over humanity physically depicted by the actual height of their realm above their subjects. The visual presentation of the winged reaper is derived from Greek Mythology, where the God of Death, Thanatos, is often portrayed as a young or fully-grown man with wings.