THE SCHOLAR - An EXCERPT
THIS IS AN EXCERPT FROM MY FINAL YEAR CREATIVE WRITING DISSERTATION ‘THE SCHOLAR’, AN EPIC POEM BASED AROUND ABRAHAMIC MYTHOLOGY< INSPIRED BY DANTE’S ‘THE DIVINE COMEDY’ AND THE WORKS OF HOMER
CANTO IV
When in a field of study
such as mine,
one finds themselves mentally
preparing for the day they
see the Divine, from those days
in churches,
to leaving home, to researching the works
of great theologists, who always expressed a readiness
to meet those up high.
This subconscious preparation over
my years of study allowed me
to face Lailah,
and quite frankly,
not go mad.
My mind, however,
was not prepared
for that splendorous place.
I have no memory of the arrival
at the Guf,
or I should say, the area
outside of it.
Memory only begins again,
with a gentle hand on my
shoulder, and a sudden visage
of white plains,
rained upon by golden rays.
My chest was rising,
rapid and heavy,
my hands were splattered with pen
ink and sweat.
The Angel said little:
‘Man’s eyes are not meant
to grace these inner workings.
My touch on you should have
arrived sooner.
My apologies, Scholar.’
I nodded,
unable to respond with an aching
mind and throbbing hand.
They let me rest for some time,
watching the plains with a blankness
I had not felt in my mind for years,
until it dawned on me to
check what I had written.
I mean this as no joke,
when I say that I,
in a maddening stupor,
had written in pure
ancient Hebrew!
I jumped up with a startle,
and moved the open notebook
up and down,
to and fro,
letting the golden rays
around me shine through the paper.
It was true!
A language I had not
the faintest clue of writing
outside of simple words,
had come out of me,
and onto the page!
‘Angel!’, I began in a
hurried, confused manner,
‘Angel, this cannot be!
Do you play tricks on me?
Allow me to make notes of this
place in a language I cannot understand?
And yet, I have writ it,
plain as can be seen!
O’ this is dizzying!
Tell me, I implore you
to at once tell me what is
written on this page!’.
The Angel
gave a smile at my words,
and replied:
‘Scholar,
surprise me this does!
You do not know of
the power of the place
as much as I thought.
I take no offence at one’s accusation,
it is true that,
as of where we stand right now,
it is only you and I here.
But even the outskirts
of the Guf is enough to drive
a mortal man to madness.’
I tried not to scoff at his words
as the Angel reached a hand
down towards my book.
Those written words began
to suddenly shift, like the sands
of a desert!
The Angel continued:
‘Mortal men’s minds
instantly becomes overwhelmed
by the eternal visage
of their divine surroundings.
So much so, that their
language reverts to the talk
of Angels, and the Lord
himself, and to that of prayer.’
The Angel gestured downwards
to the page.
Now looking back,
the words resembled plain
English!
But as the realisation of what
I had written dawned on me
A disappointed anger
grew inside of me.
As the Angel began to recite the words
I began to speak:
‘This, this is not knowledge! ‘Our Father
This is not what was promised Angel! Who art in Heaven
You said to write on what I see Hallowed be thy name!
And yet when I do, I am given but drivel! Thy Kingdom come,
Answer me Lailah! Thy will be done,
O’ what a fool I am to have come here, On Earth, as it is in Heaven.
you have shown me a majesty I cannot see! Give us this day
Even now, this place is just stark white, Our daily bread,
And there is nothing for me to gaze upon! And forgive us our trespasses.
You speak as if the Guf is near, As we forgive those
can I not see with your eyes? Who trespass against us,
For around here is nothing but white And lead us not into temptation,
and golden rays! But deliver us from evil!
I am not a man of ill-knowledge! For thy Kingdom,
So listen to me Angel! Power,
Grant me your eyes to see, And Glory are yours
so I may get what was promised!’ Now and forever!’
The Angel ceased its praying,
and though not looking
at me,
Stated thusly:
‘You know knowledge,
and yet refuse to see it too.
Is not the ability of this place
worth sharing?
Men like you share the same
ideals.
One must see to believe.
You see no Guf, and as such
you cannot believe I have taken
you there.
You view the majesty of
its working,
yet you don’t believe that
to be knowledge?
You know more than any man
bar the Son himself
of this place.
Does that mean nothing
against what could be learned?’.
I could not say anything back,
for what was spoken was true,
and I was stricken with
the kind of embarrassment a child
may feel when they are scolded.
However, I did not believe
myself to be in the wrong.
The Angel knelt,
hands on each of my shoulders,
And said:
‘I grant you my sight, Scholar.
I said you would
gain knowledge here,
and I shall not take that from you.
Now, close your eyes,
and wait for me to say
they can open.’
I did as told, eyes closed,
as the angel pressed softly
their head against mine.
‘Now open, Scholar,
and see the wonder of the Lord’s
Work!’.
JOSHUA RAY
