Amarantus Dawn

Welcome to a whole new world being born.

This is for all those of you whom I know or who I am about to know: a place where you can see what I am doing as a poet and interact with me and those ideas that form the core of my being.

It all began a decade ago with a single word: Amarantus. Think of it as a flower, but a flower that never fades. It goes on as worlds are born and die. Forever blooming, forever evolving, it’s the final destination every soul craves—the triumph of a purpose fulfilled.

From this resplendent realm every living being comes, but only the choosers return. The choosers are those of us who choose to meet people halfway without demanding to change them. We accept the limitations of those around us and strive for the best within ourselves. We take risks for the sake of an idea, an image, a promise made secretly. It’s not about changing the world; it’s about BE-ing the change you wish to see in the world around you. Living it, with persistence, and with faith.

There are no guarantees in such a path, but it is a path well-treaded by those who have chosen it for thousands of years. It is an arduous path, full of hardship and suffering, a path of endurance, the path of survival. At times it can be a lonely path, at times the path is overrun by wilderness and can grow uncertain, but throughout it’s imprinted with the deep footsteps of those who came before you, so you can find your way again.

Personally, I have run away from this path. I have made every effort to avoid it. Until, in the end, I was forced down it kicking and screaming by the sheer reality of poverty. Starvation and homelessness can be an unrelenting motivator to those of us who wish to feed our groaning bellies and have a roof over our heads to sleep in, and must do so solely through our own efforts. Yet even here we can lose hope and descend into madness, if not for the loved ones who share in our plight and for whom we continue the struggle of living. There will be intense moments of frustration and anger at the injustice and the restlessness of the situation, but in the end if we truly seek to improve ourselves, we will be granted the choice of walking the path to Amarantus.

My book White Man’s Inferno: A century of living torture is an allegorical interpretation of that journey I have chosen to make at its very beginning, when the difference between right and wrong needed to be clearly defined, and where ideas for a new faith that could grow from our pagan and Christian past could be freely considered. It is a journey through my living hell, so that I could purge myself of hatred against things said and things done that are now far in the past, and that I might transform myself into someone new—and that someone has a name: Urias.

That story and its development I would like to share with you all in this blog and in my writings. So far the path has carried me past the white man’s inferno to the enigmatic figures of Merlyn and Hamlet. Through them I am discovering a renewed sense of purpose in my work and an uplifting vision for humanity that I offer to the choosers who like me wish to go home some day to Amarantus.

It is like Merlyn, the first Urias, has said to me:

“After it’s all said and done I won’t be remembered for uniting the noble houses of Prydein (Britannia), nor for restoring the Cruwwgh (Stonehenge) and uncovering Logar (the kingdom of Camelot), nor for my efforts with the Teuton immigration and the building of the Branclawdd (Wansdyke), nor my numerous battles against our final disintegration, but for giving the world Aradus (King Arthur) and the Duselmir (Knights of the Round Table) through a brotherhood of the howl dedicated to our Goddess in a Grail—the Cymry Hyyl.”

Amarantus Dino! Logar Dino! Cymry Hyyl!