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CALLASSA

Invicta Veritate

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Callassa Aelia Pulcheria II

CDLII

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Written by Callassa for her Sweet and Curly Baby

and Whispered into His Sleeping Breath Each Night, Inperpetuum

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‘You my held one are with the Goddess of the heavens incarnate, and I am beckoning the stars to smile.’

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CALLASSA

AELIA PULCHERIA

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Translation from the Latin text

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   Her closeness was the entrancing which had been missing from all evenings heretofore. Moreso, that she was in all of those evenings and the others spent away from here and different circumstances in their entirety. She was laughing and making me join with her. This unfeigned laughter was unique for me.

   I had promised ne’er to question, but she could not have recently begun her existence in Rome, as Callassa, which was what I was finding myself asking, could she? This consideration was obviously a very difficult one because of the blank space that it rightly created in my mind.

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   She was literally feeding expanded pictures back to me, of many issues that I had often addressed, issues found difficult to hold. The main one centering on the absence of true love and it seeming to be there for others, in fact everyone except me. I had recalled her statement regarding her having been ‘watching with me’ and I tried to consider what this could mean in relation to her absence in ordinary duration and her talking about my own life so very intimately, and I promptly ceased my effort.

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   She had stepped away from me and placed one hand upon her breast and the other between her legs. With her hands remaining there, she offered me a pregnant stare and I averted my eyes, so to look beyond her because what she was doing had immediately touched upon my inhibitions.  I had become shy because her touching herself was a wielding of her incalulable sexual power and within this, she was vastly more than I had ever been or could be.

   Her touching was capable of literally fragmenting me, such that I would be dust swept upon stone and cast away

   “I think the things that you say are ….”

   “Shhh, my Roman child. I want to say that completeness is birthing and I, am this completeness, here, see.”

   I watched her hand moving further upon the lustrous garment loose upon her abdomen.

   “And here within my breasts, my baby lover true, I am the nourishing, the nurturing. All, is of what I, am. My being here in this way, is my symbol.”

    She was holding my hands now and I was lifted and carried by all that she told. I pondered; what lay beyond her words? Then she beckoned me closer still and began whispering into my hair.

   “Shhh, my Roman boy. Here, is my ambrosia, my sweet liquid of life and I offer it to you. My flowing, my pulsing and my fulfillment maker ...Yes.”

   “Callassa … I …”

   “Shhh, hearken to me. There are radiant truths in the baby’s tiny fingered hand, as it does reach and grasp in the womb of innocence, of the protection and the expectation of that ne’er to be heard again whispering land.”

   “Shhh, please listen to me …. But all should know that there can be no disputing of what is brought after my birthing and my breasted flowing. You are of me and so are the ones of yonder temple, but you, are my showing.”

   “I do love what you are saying, I really do.” What I wanted to try and say was, that her words encapsulated the meta-cosmic flavour itself, not unlike the night mist that had now swelled around her body, but there was something very, very personal in those last words; ‘you are of me, you are my showing.’ She was saying that she was my mother. Yes, it was so. My mother, beautiful mother.

   She continued her whispering and now, into my complexity of thought, “Everything is of me,” she told me. “I, am of that coming into being, the intention to make, to be and to cease to exist. I cannot be part, but the whole. I am everything.”

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   Callassa,” I implored her, because although I felt held in safety in this way, I was afraid. She was walking away and taking me with her. Beneath my feet was a trembling into which I should have descended, but did not, could not.

   The feeling was akin to stepping upon supporting hands. This was the only reasoning I was allowed because she had now coaxed me to a place beyond the realms of the world of which I was a part and any attempt at question asking would be rendered meaningless. Effectively, she had become a whispering voice in the delirious darkness.

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   She was without motion and I could see her face and that she had let down her hair, its silver was as a translucent shroud. Within her eyes were the tiny red stars I had studied intently and now they were all that was there because there was no blue, no brown, nothing. She began walking away again.

   “My eyes, ohhhh, yes, my baby, I so want to take you away into the sanctity of the female, the timeless and free, but I must wait. I want to cast away these word pictures and to love and keep you in my supreme holding … But I must wait …Wait …Wait.”

   With each footstep, I had walked toward a different identity and one in which the power of the female was the cosmic phenomena, the exemplar of all worlds.

   She was instructing me in much more than words that she was the meaning of existence, that she was universal love. I wanted to run to her, to be closer still, to embrace her in a holding bond, to be the traverse, inperpetuum.

   Again, her voice arrived as a whisper that gently began to pull me toward her, “Come to me, come to me. My spendid Roman, my little baby. My true love. Come to me now.”

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MMXXI Callassa

 

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Callassa Aelia Pulcheria II

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CALLASSA

Invicta Veritate