Phanes
        or
        Dionysus and the Gardener

        by Pat Dunn Jr.

        

Oh Sacred Muse, I ask that You should grant
Your secrets, whispered soft, and tell of him
Who with the holy twice born God once walked
And what they said, those two, upon their talk
Through gardens where asphodel spread its blooms.


The hand of Spring had lit upon the world,
Had touched the grass, and teased the bud to burst
In spiraled, tender leaves, which daily stretched,
With silent groans, to touch the wind-whipped sky.
And through a garden walked a shirtless youth,
His carmel skin well-oiled with drops of sweat,
His breast twin swells of muscle, cleaved between
And capped with rosy buds, and downy hair.
He knelt before a plant and touched its sprout
As he would touch a friend.  He licked his lips
And swept his dark and flowing hair away
From hazel eyes, which peered to better see
If any blight upon the plant had struck.
A hand then fell upon his naked back
And startled him; he jumped and turned to see
A man in modern dress, who held a rod.
"Who are you?" asked the youth, his heart athrob.
"Why are you here?  Are you a friend of hers?"

"Of whose?" spoke he, with voice that shook the sky,
"Of hers?  Of she who owns this land?  I am
A friend to everyone who walks on Earth,
To tree and man and woman, am I a friend.
To deer and wolf and dog, am I a friend.
I drink with every stupid fool at night,
And sing in every song that's ever sung,
I cry with those who drown their lives in wine,
I sing with those who celebrate their joys."

"What is your name?" the youth now asked, quite full
Of fear that this strange man might be insane.

"Dionysus is a name I've had, but there
Are many others, such as Zagreus,
Or Phanes, when the world was newly made
And I was all the Light that Chaos spewed.
Of titles I have had more than my share,
The Twice-Born God, or He Who Loves The Vine."

The youth stepped back.  "How can it be that you
Are some dead God, long dead, and yet stand here?"

"It's true," said He, "I am insane, you know
Though every God and Man is also mad."

"You are no God.  Remove yourself from here,
Before I call for help."
                                        The youth broke off.
The Holy stranger raised his pine-tipped rod,
And all the garden trembled, tenderly,
As if in ecstasy it quivered, then
Up sprang the vines and covered all the land,
They climbed the trees, and swarmed upon the fence,
Encased the house, and wriggled up the path;
And then, upon the vines the fruit burst forth,
Rich grapes, of red and gold they burst, and hung
Upon the vines, where Phanes plucked a few
And squeezing them, let fall their juices ripe
Into his mouth.  He smiled, and raised his hand,
His hand, with purple stained, his hand, of might.
"I am He," He said, "who moves your heart,
I am He who pleasure brings to you
And terror too, for true it is, not false,
That fear the greatest gifts of Tyche bring."

The youth fell down, upon his dirty knees,
"My God!" he said, "How wrong have we all been!"

"Oh youth, oh beauty, stand.  I am a God
Who loves to see the other Gods well loved.
No jealousy within My Heart can hide,
Or I will root it out, as if a weed
Had grown amid the vines that make the grapes."
He stretched his hand out to the supine youth
And helped him up.  The touch of Holy Flesh
Sent shocks of pleasure through the mortal frame,
And some of it, mortality, did waste
And turn to God, as grape juice turns to wine.

"Why are You here?" in awe the youth asked him,
"Why me, of all the people who live on Earth?"

Then Phanes took the youth's hard calloused hand
And led him down the path; the vines all rolled
Like ocean waves before the prows of boats,
Or air around a swiftly running horse.
"My friend," the God began, "I came to tell
The Will of Zeus, My Father, Who on high
Has ordered life and death, has cut and bound
The wills of humans.  I will bring his Word,
And mix with Mine the truth of deathless Gods."

"Then speak!" said he whom Gods had blessed, "then speak,
And I will listen close, and take good note
Of all You say, for now I must believe
That You speak truth, yet I will judge Your words.
They say a tree that gives a sickly fruit
Cannot be good, and he who works for ill
Is truly ill, and this seems wise to me."

"So wise it is," said Phanes, "wise and true,
And I will speak, and give you full account
Of why I came to Earth, of hymns to sing,
Of works to do, and gifts to give to Gods,
Of what you are, and what you once will be,
And even what We are, the Gods who dwell 
In endless bliss above your mortal heads."

"Above our heads?  Can this be so?  To dwell
Within the sky, as if You were a bird?"

"Not quite.  The Gods dwell everywhere, and are
Within your body, in the boundless sky,
And here upon the stony sands of Earth
At once, for We are bodiless, and can
In many places dwell, and move as fast
As wind, or thought, or light that spears the night.
Now listen, youth, and hear the birth of Gods
Within the sprouting seed, or on the wind.

"The Deathless Gods are twelve," Bright Phanes said,
"And they are numbered thus, now take good note:
All Holy Zeus is first, and Hera too
Then all the rest, with Hestia let us start,
Then Hermes swift, and bright Apollo, Lord
Of Pythia, His sister chaste, the sweet
Queen Artemis, Who rules over hunts,
And Aphrodite, She who sows the seeds
Of lust in brave and bloody Ares' chest,
Though She to Craft's Hephaestus is a wife.
Demeter then, the Goddess of the corn,
And Poseidon, Who rules on the waves.
Athene brave and wise will humbly step
To show Herself, in wonderful array."

"Then why," the youth replied, "are You a God
When Your own list does not Your name take count?"

"These twelve are greater than the other Gods,
And dwell in bliss, but there are other Gods,
Like Hades grim, Who keeps the dead a bit,
And Pan of Forests Dark, Who roams and pipes,
And Nyx, the Queen of Dark, Whom all Gods fear,
And Eris, Discord's Queen, a Goddess Who
Makes jokes and strange coincidence to come.
And then there are the Daemons, flying swift
To do the deeds of Gods, and do them well.
Like Iris, riding rainbows through the sky,
Or Morpheus, delivering the dreams
That warn or scare or sooth the sleeping one.
And Me, the God of Pleasure, standing here."

"Oh, Lord," the youth replied, "You speak of things
I cannot understand.  Are You within 
My mind alone?  Or do You stand and talk
As I should swear I see You do.  Pray tell!"

"Oh, Youth, I kiss your lips, and whisper this:
I am within, as lovers dwell within,
I am without, as lovers dwell without,
I am a figment of a maddened mind,
I am the signet of a sane man's brain,
I am the woman's breath upon your cheek,
I am the man's rough kiss upon your neck,
I am in every friend your arms embrace,
I am in every cup you drain in joy,
I am the grape you press into the vat,
I am the wine you pour into your glass,
I am the drunk's quite mad and wild tirade,
I am the compliments of learned men."

Upon his knees again the youth quick fell,
Though not because he wished to worship Him,
But for the strength of knees, which flowed away
At hearing all the words that Phanes said.

"Oh, be more strong, My Youth, My prince, My friend
For only weak and vain men need to kneel,
And My own priest is neither weak nor vain!"

He struggled to his feet, and spoke these words:
"My Holy Lord, forgive the weakness here.
I am but mortal -- "

                                "Hsst!  You speak half truth.
Know this, My Youthful One, and know it well
For never has the truth been granted you,
To man or woman, child or elder one:
You are a God, a God in seedling stage
Who grows through many winter storms, and like
The vines that grow around our feet, will lose
Your gorgeous leaves, will drop them to the mulch,
Will bear much fruit, from which we Gods will drink:
Your songs are fruit, your works of art, your lives
The lips you kiss, the enemies you make
And yet in spring your vines grow higher still
To reach the peak upon which Gods can dwell.
I know, for I have been a Man, and dwelt 
With you upon the Earth's bare breasts, and died
Like you will do, when winter's bite blows south.
But listen close:  If you should seek to be
A God today, before the time is right, 
We'll prune the vines you make to reach the sky,
And cut them back, that you might learn to pace."

The youth then stood and looked within the eyes
Of Holy Phanes.  They were deep, and black, 
And in them Chaos spun the world anew
And Cosmos struck Him down, and They contend.
The youth gasped back a scream, of joy or fear
He did not know, nor could he ever know.
The awe rose up in waves, like ocean spume
And drowned him in its ancient, horrible depth.

"Faint not, My priest, faint not, fear not, My priest
I come to you with words of Joy, and Song
And blessings poured like offerings from a cup.
Now that you have come to former strength,
Oh hear how worship of the Gods proceeds!"

"Oh, yes, I wish to know the holy rites
Now that the Gods have come and shown me
They are not fiction, I should like to give
Them many gifts, and seek Their favor, too."

"The rites are simple; complexity pollutes.
There are your prayers, and offerings to make.
These two: these simple two, well done will grace
Your life with peace, your heart with love, and give
Your mind a clear and graceful place to grow.
So hear: when you shall pray, you'll kneel down not,
But raise your arms to heaven, sing aloud,
Or if you pray to Sea, then stretch them out
Embracing Sea, and all that's held therein.
Or if you pray to Earth, or deepest Chthon
Then let your arms stretch down, and stamp your foot
Then speak the words in low and humble tone.

"Now offerings are simple too, and they 
Should be of perfect foods, or flowers gay
Or wines of crystal vintage, juices same, 
Or honey cakes, or incense on a flame.
Before you give the gifts, let water run
Upon your hands, that they may clean themselves
And wash your head, the back of neck, and face,
Then pour the cup upon the ground, then sip,
And slice the sacrifice, and taste, then burn
Or bury it beneath the sacred ground.
Then you will share the food you've won with Gods
Who will sit down and dine with you, as friends."

"The rites are simple," said the youth, amazed,
"No complex laws, no doctrinal decrees.
But say, what moral laws do Gods approve,
What conduct's right?  What's wrong?  What shall I do?"

"The Gods are deathless, They have seen it all,
And They condemn no actions made by you:
It is your place, as humans on the Earth,
To make your laws, and rules for living right.
No God will do it for you; this is Wrong
By laws which We decree among Ourselves.
But virtue is a constant, and includes
All Kindness, Honesty, and Gentle Words.
Here is a key by which you may yourself
Judge right or wrong: would you do similar
To one of Us, if We should come to you?
For what you do to you, you do to Us,
As every human hides an unborn God."

"I see," the gardener replied, "But then
You'll tell to me the purpose for our lives?"

"The Purpose?  What should make you think that We
Should have a thing to do with such a thing?
It is your life.  Why should the Gods decide 
What purpose it should have upon the Earth?"

"Then tell me, Phanes, Twice Born God of Life,
What else You feel a man like me should know
About the Gods, or Human life, or death,
About the wars, the fighting and the hate,
The fears of living, passions of our hearts
And everything a Priest of Yours should know!"

"I say to you, My gorgeous prince and friend
That there is pleasure: this is Our own gift
And while there's pain, you may in pleasure dwell
As We, the Deathless Gods, are said to do.
Hear me!  Before the sun has dropped beneath
The compass of the Earth, horizon's rim,
I'll show to you the bliss of Holy Gods,
And teach to you how pain is run away.
But first I'll tell My tale, now listen close,
For this is how it happened, how I came
To stand before you now, and speak these words.
When Chaos spun out light and Cosmos moved,
When roaring filled the skies, and lava hissed
Across the land like dragons, flowing swift,
When smoke belched forth from Earth, and stained the day
In misty blots of color, black and gray,
Then came I forth, and Phanes was My name!
I brought the light, and gave Dark Nyx Her birth,
I moved the lands, and swept the oceans down,
I brought the rains and then, the Gods did war
Upon the Titans old, the Ancient Ones,
Which I was then, and I was taken in
And swallowed whole by Zeus, the Holy One.
Now He gave me in seed to Kore sweet,
And I was born.  My name was Zagreus.
And I came forth, the Holy God's own spawn,
But Titans took My life, devoured Me.
And Zeus -- His wisdom is eternal -- struck
Them down, and from the ashes took my heart
And ate it up, thus giving rise to life,
For humans sprang therefrom, and took the Earth,
And thus the Titans lost Their rulership.
And Zeus slept with the Holy Semele
And She gave birth to Me, and called My name
Lyseus.  This is how I am the one
Born twice."

                In terror cast the youth about
And asked, "Bright God, where have we walked, and where
Do we now stand?"  The sky was red as steel
When bathed in heat.  No sun shone forth a light
Yet all was glowing, and along the banks 
Of some strange river, grew asphodel in
A thick and fragrant carpet, rich with life
Yet quiet, birdless, still and windless too.

"This River," said the God, "is Styx, and this
Is Hades' realm, where we now walk and speak,
But have no fear, I have been here before,
And I will comfort you, and keep you safe."
He rested then His hand upon the neck,
His arm along the back, and led the youth
Along the bone-white path, which many tread.

"Why am I here?" he asked, "Have I then died?"

"Bright youth, no such a thing!  You are alive
And will be hence for many, many years.
But mankind thinks that death's a mystery,
And so you're here, to prove them wrong, and see
That fear is nothing more than ignorance.
With knowledge dies all fear, and thus it's said
That knowledge brings along the gift of strength.
Yet true it is, you'll never conquer fear,
Nor should you.  If you fear, then do that thing
You fear, and if you die, then you are here
And life of fear is worse than death, by far."

"My Lord, I see you're right, for while it's strange
I have seen worse, and will, no doubt, again.
Tell me, since I'm here, may I converse
With those who've come before, the ancient ones?"

"The Heroes that have died?  You surely can
If they are here; for no one ever stays
In one place all the time.  They often go
Up to the Earth, or further, down below
Where Tartarus holds Titans, bathed in wrath."

"Why go there then, if Titans rule that land?"

"Because, my loved friend, they sometimes must.
For growing needs all times, both cold and hot,
Both winter's needed, summer's needed, both
Must be there or the seed will never sprout.
Now here's someone of whom you may have heard,
A Hero strong and brave, a man of war
Whom Homer wrote about, Achilles, friend
Has come before your face, now speak to him."

A warrior approached, in armored plates,
And holding up a spear, its point agleam.
"I am Achilles, victor over Troy
And man of wrath.  Why seek you here for me?"

The bloody gleam of brass upon his breast,
The calloused hand that gripped the sharp tipped spear,
And eyes of darkest black had caught the youth.
The youth could make no sound; his throat had seized.
His carmel skin becoming tender peach.

Achilles smiled then, "My dearest friend
You walk with Him I Love, and that is all
I need to know you are a godlike man.
So speak, and tell this warrior, myself,
What you should wish to say, to ask and know."

"Oh brave and noble man!  With what you know
Of life beyond the gates of sunset's tint,
Tell me, what would you change of life, if you
But could to life return, what would you change?"

"Young gardener, I would change not a thing,
I hold quite dear my errors, made beside
The things that I did right, for hear me now:
No life is made of 'rights' and 'wrongs' and such,
But 'done' and 'failed to do' will be your song
When you past life have moved into this realm."

Achilles then upon his heel turned, 
And with farewells dissolved into the mist.
The youth stood, shaking, pale of face and dry
Of mouth.  He licked his lips, then spoke to Him
And said, "My Lord, I must return to life
And do those things undone, must kiss and touch
The world.  Oh, Lord, how can it be that I 
Have gone for twenty years, and grasped no flames,
Have ridden over not a single fear, 
Or spoke no word of wonder at the sky,
And failed to speak the truth, to friends I loved,
And did not dance when music played, when wine
Was poured, I did not drink, when others sang
I held my tongue in fear I'd sing off-key.
I saw a sunset on the sea, and yet 
I did not paint it.  When I fell in love 
I wrote no sonnet, never told the one 
Who held my heart and now -- " he choked and gasped.
He wept, and in immortal Phanes' arms 
He laid his head, until the God said:
                                                        "Hush!
What sound is this, have you now sobbed for love,
For sunsets left unrendered, cups undrunk,
For life unlived while here you stand by Styx?
And why?  Because you were afraid to do
And so did not, and now you know you've missed
The chances life provides, and death cannot.
So dance!  If you are horrible, and trip
Then trip and fall with joy and ecstasy
And if the ones who watch you laugh and jibe
Then laugh right back, with louder, stouter laugh
And drain another cup of Life."
                                                
                                                "My God,
You speak the truth.  But may we see again 
The rising sun, the tumbling clouds, the grass
And all the bright and holy things of life?"

"Then dry your eyes, and look about you, boy,
For here we stand again upon your world."

The youth relaxed to see his land again
And that he stood within the garden, where
The God Who Loves the Vine appeared and spoke.

"Then tell me," said the Youth, "what else You say
And where else shall we go, to learn the truth?"

"What I should say?  Nay ask what you should say!
For truth is spoken both by Gods and Men --
The hand that grasps a friend in warm embrace,
The eyes that wink with drowsy, fuzzy sleep,
The breath that shapes the words of truthful love,
Or hate or fear or any other truths,
These things are holy too, not just My cup."

"What to avoid, though. . . what will lead astray?"

Great Phanes rumbled then, grew tall and gruff
And spoke as if the Youth had spat on Him:
"You ask what to avoid?  You want a list?
A line of thou-shalt-nots, like ants will sting
And bite and tear at all the beauty here:
Will strangle action, bite the head off youth
And pour like sluggish slime of mold from out
Our sacrificial cups.  My Dearest Priest,
Hear Me, for now I speak, and say to you,
Not 'do not kill' but 'love life and its joys.'
Not 'have no sex,' but 'pleasure pass in turn,'
Not 'do not lie,' but 'know truth is your gold.'
Not 'thou shalt not,' but 'do and do and do!'"

"But evil men," the youth replied, "will twist
Your words to evil ends, will say, 'I act
By Holy Phanes' Law, which is to do
And this excuses me from evil deeds.'"

"Yet I say not, do only good, for that
Is for all men and women to decide:
If they do ill, then they will live with ill,
If good they do, then good they will attract.
This is not God ordained, but simply so.
If evil men or women use My name 
To make excuse for evil deeds, then they
Are simply liars, this is all they are,"

"No answer that," the Youth did mutter low
"Yet I will keep it, hoping for the light
Of inspiration to illuminate
The depth of it, and teach me what it means."

"Quite wise," the God replied, to Youth's surprise
For he had never guessed the God could hear
What he had muttered, quiet, in the wind.
"Now you have asked what else I have to teach:
But one thing more, and this is happiness,
For all the gifts I give are nothing else
And would be worthless if it brought not joy
Along with wisdom, peace along with strength."

"Is happiness the goal of life to seek?"

"You seek it, do you not?"  The God then laughed.
"But some will no doubt say that happiness
Is sacrificed to duty, grim and grey,
But this is hardly so: for those who do
Burn happiness to fuel duty's flame
Do so with gritty joy, and love to say
How they have traded happiness for will.
This is a soldier's happiness, and grim
And dark and mortal.  We have other joys.
We dwell in bliss undying, where the winds
All blow with honey scent, and music sings
Unendingly.  Come to Olympus high
And meet the other Gods, and speak with Them
Then learn the key to Our Eternal Joy
That you may bring it back, like flame was brought
Yet without stealth you'll bring this flame to Earth
And thus shall suffer not the wrath of Zeus."

"My Holy Savior, I await the trip!"

"It's done," the God, all smiling, said, "we're here.
Olympus, where the Gods all dwell in bliss,
Now come, the Gods await us in this hall,
If you are ready, open then the doors."

The Gardener waged a war within himself:
To fling the doors or wait a moment more,
Those golden doors, with words all worked in brass,
In language strange, yet he could read them all:
"Know first Thyself," said one, another said
"All things in moderation"  Written there 
Were words of wisdom, keys to holy things,
Like "Seek yourself by standing still," and like
"Experience was why the Gods made Life."
The Youth let rest his hands upon the doors,
Which seemed to pulse with life beneath his palms.
He flung them wide, and light came streaming out,
And laughter, music, singing, with the scent
Of something strange and sweet, that made him stand
More tall, more bright, more beautiful and strong.
His shirtless chest like ripened fruit swelled out,
And all the dirt upon his knees and thighs
Was like an ornament.  He did not know
How Gods beheld him then, though if he did
He might have wondered at it, thinking odd
That Gods should find such beauty in a thing
Such as himself, of flesh and blood and bone
With sweat that carved a map of rivers down
His dirty back and arms, and stained his pants
A darker shade of brown.  He closed his eyes
Against the rushing light, then blinked and stared
At Gods all sitting round him in a ring.
At center there sat Hera, Zeus beside.
The Goddess Hera's belly swelled with life,
And in Her hand She held a round red fruit.
Her other hand did rest with fingers round
A scepter of the wood of cypress trees,
And crowning it, a bird that sang a song
That never ceased, save when the Goddess spoke.
Her hair was crowned with light, that flowed in rings
About her kind and lovely head, which dipped
In greeting to the mortal who now stood,
His knees both weak, before the deathless Gods.
Beside Her, Zeus sat up, upon a throne
Made out of gold.  He lifted up His hand
In gentle greeting to the gardener.
Blue flame shot back and forth from thumb to palm,
Between His fingers danced the crackling heat.
His hair in random breezes stirred and shook
For every hair that moved, a nation died,
For every hair, a mountain fell or rose,
And suns exploded in the Great God's eyes!
Yet love from out of Him flowed ceaselessly.
Sat to His left Athene, armor bound,
And holding up a spear, in calm salute.
An owl round Her head did flap and whirl,
Yet Her grey eyes, like polished slate both shone
And focused on the youth who trembled there.
And silently, Her stern composure fell
And She, with wisdom, smiled at the Youth,
Thus putting him at somewhat greater ease.
The Goddess Artemis then bowed Her head
In gentle tribute to the mortal youth.
This chaste and holy Goddess held a bow
And arrows too, and in Her eyes shone all
The moon surveys, the limpid lakes and glens
Where deer fly swift, escaping hunters' aims.
She wore a sash, this Sacred Goddess chaste,
Inscribed with words, "For hunters pray," it read.
She bowed Her Holy, silver lighted head.
Beside Her sat Her brother, Lord of Light
Apollo sat, and strummed a lyre while
Nine maidens in the corners sang their songs.
His eyes were black as coal, yet in them shone
Bright flecks of golden light, that swam and dove
Within the depthless depth of shining eyes.
Next Hermes raised His hand in light salute,
His body lithe and quick, and whirled round
With thoughts as swift as He.  His lips revealed
A flashing grin, so swift it came and went
That telling if it had been truly there
Was made impossible.  The God held up
A staff entwined with living serpents, crowned
With wings, that tore the humming air to shreds.
And then did Hestia rise and bow Her head
And sit again.  Around Her hovered rings 
Of flaming light, and in Her hand She held
A glowing torch, that wrapped Her in a shawl
Of peace and comfort.  She was motherly,
With long dark hair that flowed upon Her breasts
And wrapped in warmth and light, She smiled soft.
Then Poseidon's hand went up to greet
The gardener.  His eyes, as green as sea
And twice as deep did fix upon the youth,
And saw straight through to deepest depth of heart.
He held a triton, spear of triple teeth,
And in His other hand, He held a bowl
Of polished brass, on which small navies warred.
It was the sea, for fish as small as gnats
Leapt up and into tiny fishers' nets.
With every breath He took, the earth would shake
And tremble underneath the awe of Him.
Then Aphrodite, nude and innocent,
Let part Her lips, and uttered just a moan
Yet in that moan was wrapped the world tight,
A purple heat descended on the Youth
And Aphrodite smiled, creamy thighs
Fell wide apart, invitingly, and yet
Within Her face a deeper wisdom grew
And from Her eyes flowed Agape and Lust
In equal measure.  In Her hand She held
A girdle belt, upon which skillful hands
Had picked out letters, spelling "Love is Law".
Beside Her sat Hephaestos, strong and bare
Of chest, with leather apron gathered round
His craggy thighs.  He held aloft His tools:
A hammer and a pair of tongs to grasp
Hot metal when it met with hotter flame.
Beside Him stood a woman made of gold
And out of silver, stood a man, and they
Held dishes for the God to sample from.
And then, not sitting down, stood Ares firm
A sword within His hand, a sword that burned
With scarlet light and licking flames of pain.
He glanced at him, the Youth, and dipped His eyes.
His chest was bare of armor, shined with sweat
And muscles bulged at skin enwebbed in scars.
His face was locked in grimace. Those who loved
This hearty God were brave, for He gave war
And all contention, fighting, energy.
Yet when He loved, His love made harmony.

The Youth stepped back and bowed quite low to Them.
"They will not speak.  Have I done something wrong?"

Dionysus smiled.  "No, my Priest, 
They speak, and always spoke, to you, and all
The mortals on the Sacred Orb of Earth,
Yet mortals rarely listen, sad it is,
That they deny the truths We give to them."

The Youth then felt a feeling in his heart,
A swelling up, a growing forth, and knew
The Gods were speaking to him.  He would hear
In times to come, and sooner than he hoped.

"Now come," the God called Phanes said, "and hear
What else I have to give, the keys to joy,
That you might make your life a poem, and live
Instead of wait to die, as most men do."

And when the youth had turned his head around
The hall was gone, the sacred Gods, the songs
And music, gone.  Instead the garden grew
Around the youth, as he remembered it.
"A dream?" he said, but no, for Phanes stood
Upon the path, and in His hand He held
A single grape.  
                        "Now hear My words, oh Priest,
For now I tell you plain, the key to joy:
You share in you the Godly nature, which
Must dwell in bliss, in bursting joy, in all
That whirls, spins, or throws itself about
And says, I am I was I will to be,
And IS.  But this is mystery, and I
Will tell you plain.  Tell Me this first, My Priest:
What do you share with Us, what faculty?"

The youth thought hard, and spoke what came to mind,
"With Gods?  We think, and reason, too, and this
Is surely rare and strange."
                                        
                                        "My Youth, it's so,
But this is not what I should seek of you.
I ask again: what do you share with Us?"

"Besides our thoughts?  Our love of lovely things;
This must be it."

                        "That's so," Lord Phanes said
"But not the thing I sought.  Again, what do
You mortal humans share with deathless Gods?
In what diversion do the Deathless Gods
Pass aeons, ages, centuries.  Now think."

The youth fell silent, strained against the reins
Of mortal thought, and pushed his mind beyond
The range of reason, logic's pastures sere
And listened silently, his mind well drained
Of every thought, until he heard a voice
Like silent thunder underneath his brain.
His mouth fell open: echoes tumbled out.
He could not hold them back; he spoke these words:

"Creation, Sacred Phanes, Zagreus, 
Semele's Son, You Deathless God of Wine!
Oh Purple One, Creation is the key."
His eyes grew wide and wild, like a horse
That scents a mare, he rolled them in his head
And said again: "Creation is the key!"

"Indeed, I see that you have understood,
Creation makes a mortal man a God:
To plant a seed, or write a poem, or sing
Or dance or paint a scene: it matters not
Exactly what, but that you do, and make
A Poima for the Gods.  We do not grudge
This gift to you, We give it happily.
For one who tries to climb Olympus, him
We knock to Earth, but one who rides a song
We welcome there.  The key to bliss is this
Which you have heard from Us: now take your hand
And with it shape the Earth, with love and will
Plant seeds and bid them grow, and gentle be
With every living thing you chance to meet.
Now come, for I must go, and kiss My lip
For some ambrosial taste may linger there.
Then take, and drink this juice, which I shall squeeze."

The gardener stepped up, and kissed the God
Then from His hand drank wine, that poured in streams
Of purple, gold, and red, and in his mind
A quiet inspiration whispered soft,
And like wind tossed petal, whirled round,
Or like a downy seed, that skips, then lights
Upon a grassy sprig of fertile Earth.

The flow of wine had ceased.  The Youth looked up
To see the garden empty, though upon
The furrowed ground a pine-tipped wand lay near
A sprouting vine.

                        The Youth turned round and plucked
A ripe red apple from a bough nearby.
He lay it near the wand, then raised his arms
And spoke these words aloud, and felt within
A fluttering and tingle, overspread
His chest and limbs and face, until the hairs
Upon his neck stood up and waved.  He said:

"My Holy God, my Dionysus, Lord
Who dwells within me, I have drunk Your wine
And kissed Your lips, now hear these words I pray.
Oh Sacred Twice-born God of Wine and Joy
I give to You and to the Deathless Gods
A life of bliss, a garden and a song
Which I shall sing unendingly, I make
My life a poem, my heart a tuneful lute.
Oh make me strong, my Deathless Lord of Joy
And all You Deathless Gods, and grant me this:
That I should never fear, to live the life
You've given me, to dance when music plays,
To sing along, to tell the truth to those
I truly love, and give to every man
And woman, happiness, and honor too,
As if they were a God, for that they are.
I thank the Gods for hearing what I pray,
And offer Them this fruit in sacrifice.
Thus may it be propitious unto Them."
The Youth then took a bite, and left to lay
The offering beside the growing vine.
He stood in silence for a moment, then
Picked up his spade and turned back to his work:
To plant a seed, and make a garden grow.