Academic journal article TriQuarterly

Narcissus as Gnostic

Academic journal article TriQuarterly

Narcissus as Gnostic

Article excerpt

I knelt for generations by an algae-clotted lake, waiting for someone I'd drowned there. Bees and morning gold painted the copse, carried it from ripeness into decay. Noon burned the blotted mirror,

focused brilliant waves to flames, the sun repeated in the eye and the seared pool's lens. Bloated corpses of brown waterlilies floated to the surface of my impatience. After two thousand years I just wanted

to go home. Say I was your brother, and you carried me for adolescent miles, a burden like those flowers staining your branched arms. Echo me one last time. You were the firstborn, who taught me heresy's

the cure for repetition. The day someone said Great Pan is dead, you were the sound. Then I was lost, and saved from what I wanted most: my losses found the safety of a story. No one could drink that stagnant water. Now twigs snap in a wind

of circumstance, tinder for the Cathar citadels; tied to a stake of disbelief, the flesh of the perfected is purged to pure light. …

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