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OrmusNotes and interpretation by Yaacov De Sola-Abravanel Ort.

Deputy Executive Director for University Communications, Editor in Chief and Director of Creative Services. Yeshiva University. Jerusalem.

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July 2, 2008

Tim:

It is a beautiful poem, deep and sincere. I resonates deeply with me on many levels.

It is both history and autobiography. The dual setting of the poem is externally, the Sea of Erythrus, known to most today as the Persian Gulf, and internally, deep within the soul of the seeker of Infinite Light and primordial bliss.

It is about the search for the true Garden of Eden and its first inhabitants, Adam, Eve, Samael and Lilith . . . collectively known as עורמות, which has the meanings: naked ones, enlightened ones, subtle ones, from the Hebrew root ערם, as they and the Garden existed and continue to exist as the essence of the world and the essence of the self.

Amongst the fragrant flowers gleam the jewels past, a time of sorrow ‘ere the moon and fast – a month of sun and golden dawns till once again another lunar cycle past.

In Ormus lies a land of gold and treasure such as to behold.

The primordial past. Prior to the fall the Sun and Moon were equal sources of different kinds of light. The diminishment of the Moon was a source of great conflict between Lilith and YHVH.

Rejoice for you who question yet abide, the mystery of the laws of time . . . an answer to the intellect, a mountain rages to eternity, and truth in immortality.

A cosmic shower points to you and beams of light so holy they be true – so bright to pierce the deepest depth – an answer to the intellect.

The subjective experience of the Divine Golden Light is infinitely higher than anything the intellect can access.

Rejoice again for Gods say, fear not for life to come – desire marks the way to the inner sanctum, obscure but clear in brilliant sun.

The search must be inward, outward and upward.

A pause, a heartfelt stop in time for some to learn the lesson of this rhyme; a grace, a light, to blossom deep and heal the helpless in their sleep.

Without our quest we are hopelessly asleep, dead to the world and to ourselves.

No dawning dew could ever be so sweet than heavenly glimpses of celestial sleep – a glance, an opening through earth’s great shroud, a message shouted less than loud, comes passing through Valhalla’s cloud.

There is a faint but certain call from above for us to continue.

A plateau rising from the mists of time, a grace, a peace to all mankind who dreaming of the clouds divine, tread softly lest the Gods decline to favour those who seek to find, the answers to the end of time.

The plateau is the Island, the Garden.

Algonquin chose to meet to battle our so near defeat, and loses till he’s at his feet, to a warrior too hard to defeat and fallen to a harlequin so sweet the joke is such to make him weep.

A crimson blossom falling down, enfolds the edges of his crown.

I
n 1505 Alfonso de Albequerque [Algonquin in the poem?] was dispatched by King Manuel I of Portugal to set up outposts in the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean. The four prime targets that he was ordered to conquer were Goa, Ormus, Aden, and Malacca. When his fleet arrived at Ormus he found little there but an allegedly Royal Family who possessed some wealth in pearls, but nothing to write home about. What he did write home about was his disappointment.

The island called Ormus was a mostly barren wasteland, with no sources of fresh water, whose land is composed of mostly volcanic ash and salt. For millennia been little more than a military outpost to regulate and control sea-traffic between the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf.

There had been legends of great beauty, wealth and more, and nothing of the sort was to be found, by him at least.

So he set up a Las Vegas of sorts, built an impressive fortress, imported fine prostitutes from around the world, and made Ormus into a center for the trade of precious pearls and gems and slaves, for gambling, and for unrestrained pleasure for those with enough cash.

Following a series of conquests and losses, the Portuguese were eventually expelled from the region and the Isle of Ormus returned to its former state of desolation under Islamic rule.

Of course, he had the wrong island.

What has mostly been lost to history, and sometimes being lost is not a bad thing, is that Albuquerque’s expedition was originally planned under James I, and approved by the council that approved all expeditions on behalf of the Kingdoms of Portugal, Spain, Aragon, etc.

That committee was headed by two of my ancestors, Don Abraham Senior, and Don Isaac Abravenel. Why they were put in positions of such extreme trust is not for now to discuss, and the reasons are much more than the fact that they were personally responsible for the financing of all expeditions of this sort, including that of Columbus, which is a matter of public record.

Let’s just say that the Regents considered Don Abraham and Don Isaac to be their equals, at least.

As things would have it, there was the nasty expulsion from Spain that we are all aware of. Don Isaac chose to leave and set up shop elsewhere, and Don Abraham ‘converted’ to Catholicism and was permitted to stay and his power and influence only grew.

Ferdinand and Isabella were so desperate for Don Isaac to stay that they kidnapped his son, who was raised as a good Catholic, and held hostage until Don Isaac would return, which he never did.

Needless to say, they were both deeply interested in finding and conquering the real Isle of Ormus, particularly because the real Ormus is, among other things the site of the tomb of Eurythrus, which is what the Greeks called our ancestor Esau, who chose to be buried there, in the Garden of Eden, where the secrets of all the fallen still reside.

Beyond the waves a crescent plays, discordant with the manta rays, a moonlit night’s horizons fall and plays a music for us all.

Across a sea of candlelight, the Muses call us to their light, and boundless heeds the brilliant night to answer from a clear twilight – behold a light so glorious bright that even in the darkest night a voice is heard to calm our fright, and points us to the golden light.

A vision through a mirror blurred, a fleeting moment lost but found, of distant worlds too far in time, communicating but sublime, a journey short but longer than a beam of light as fast as dusk in earth’s twilight.

A key, a key, then must be searched, a door to pass through and an arch two spans in height in darkened wood, and then a light, so bright that eyes can see the long road to eternity by night.

A starlit boat on waves of crested blue and green, and shores of gilded mountains which would seem, to meet the clouds and touch the evergreen.

A paradise for King and Queen, and garden of the golden age of Never Seen. Samael and Lilith

A hint, a clue, a riddle, but beware – each age of mortal man is near, he longs to hear the answer to his song – his virtue not a paragon, but everlasting in his quest to learn of stars so strong, he sometimes heeds by doing wrong.

A star so keen so bright he lasts, his spirit moves to quench the thirst of knowledge that he asks.
Samael (Lucifer, aka bringer of Light and Golden Dawns)

And learns from past that what he yearns is part of what he is, and never lasts.

oo O oo

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Note by Tim:

You see dear reader, this all goes back thousands of years, if not to the beginnings of our time on earth. The legend of Ormus is just a small thread in a long timeline of tales and theories.

I ask myself what on earth did Ormus find, and what did the Jewish Abranavel’s know (and thereby the Catholic Kings Ferdinand and Isabella)?

Only time will tell . . unless I find the answers first.

To read Part I of this 2 part story please click here

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