There was a snake, a huge dark serpent. It slid under the doors, fluid like a pool of blood. It moved silently watching me lying in bed. I did nothing but turn my head to watch. My body no less a statue of rigid stone, my palms open and flat. Truly a sight only meant as a message to the Sakrisan, from Her the Goddess. O I was blessed by the Goddess with the dream.
The snake moved unto me and took the form of a woman. Tall and thin, white skin and black of eye. Made of marble and surely crafted by the hand of Enki himself for there has been no such beauty in mortal lives. I could not breathe in Her presence, for O glorious and magnificent She was. Her dress of black held a belt, within a dark dagger. Her right as She has been to the Underworld. She moved unto me.
So wonderful was Her presence. So in awe was I, She spoke and I listened intently. She spoke of blasphemy and redemption. She spoke of sacrilege and balance. She talked of Her husband, the Lord Dumuzid and of the Sister, Delah. I listened intently to Her words, She offered unto me redemption for mortal deed. To stay within Her holy and magnificent thoughts. For mortals do their deeds on the behest of their loves do they not?
I had heard of the child to be; the supposed kin of Her consort. This cannot be! The villagers indulge her every lie and blasphemy and She angers with every blessing. For this is not the child of Her consort but of a simple shepherd; of which no word or trace can be found. A shiftless wanderer and his flock, not a holy visitation. This blasphemy cannot be! This child will be worshipped as an idol, to anger our Goddess.
This betrayal cannot be. For she has betrayed the holy Goddess Inanna and assumed that she, Delah, should bear the child of a god. She can only bear mortal kin and mortal kin alone. This betrayal of my love for her, she has cast aside unto the first mortal man to cross her path. She has broken that which had purity and sanctity within Her heart.
In the dream, holy Inanna showed me a leaf; from a particular plant. She sayeth unto me; “O once lost Sakrisan, O now found Sakrisan; provide this leaf for a brew for the maiden Delah, for the maiden Delah to drink and purify her blasphemy.” I was enraptured and took the idea unto my bosom without consideration. For She has spoken to me and is perfect in every way.
She placed a sprig of the leaf onto my frozen chest and departed as She came. Upon awakening I was reminded of the Gardens of En-zu and their beauty. For she restored them unto nature following the first Flood. There is a tale of three of her children: Of the Birch, Cypress and Dogwood…
“After the Flood; En-zu brought once more beauty unto the world. Her twelve children did grow but three were her especial favourites; the beautiful Birch tree, glorious and golden of autumn with parchment for bark. The majestic Cypress; tall and pointed to the heavens and scented like spring. Finally, the unruly and colourful Dogwood; so splendid in bloom, yet twisted and weak of limb and trunk. Each branch in refusal to another to live in harmony.
En-zu loved each child and the Dogwood remained unruly unto adulthood. Still refusing to follow orders despite his maturity. En-zu despaired; for why must all her children grow unto beauty and wisdom in maturity but the Dogwood. It is said Anu himself heard her despair and answered her thus: ‘It is to remind mortals, it is to remind you of the weak fragility that in yourselves there is apportioned; a weakness and fragility that makes two of three parts good, but one of three unruly and unreliable.'”
(Sakrisan IX)
In every of us there is much good; mostly filled as we are with good thought and deed and yet there remains a part of darkness. A part which does not want control, which gives us satisfaction. It is a wild, capricious beast and likes not to be told of rules and order. But in some acts it demands, it has that right. She came unto my dreams and told me of deeds. I must take your leave now my friend; I beg your forgiveness for this brief interlude but I have the dream of the holy Inanna to consider. For it asks of me more questions than it answers. It was a dream born of darkness that needs light.
To Chapter Forty-Seven – Consequences
The Angry Farmer 