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Opening extract from Canto 9 DoorWay: Arriving in Aquarius

The poet, wrenched from love’s bliss with Seraphina in Canto 8, is carried onward by the Butterfly to his final destination. His journey leads him past the cosmic scorpion—his own sign—forcing him to confront the lingering shadows of mortality. Yet, salvation is near, as the great Eagle descends, lifting him towards the celestial threshold. Arriving in the realm of Aquarius, the poet stands before the radiant throne of God. He beholds the Ancient of Days, the One who orders all time and existence. Before Him, he trembles, overwhelmed by divine majesty, but is upheld by grace. The unfolding vision reveals the final judgment, the fall of the wicked, and the triumph of righteousness… and more!

What was a hand (or so I thought) a wing
Outstretched, once more and sailing effortless
Upon its merest tip of touch to bring

Me where ahead I’d find my peace and rest;
Though wrenched I was to have to leave love’s bliss—
The woman made for me whom God made best,

For whom I had been made, made to exist:
Welded as metals are fused to alloy,
Both there, but one now with new qualities;

Stronger by far, no rust here to destroy, 
Resilient to the nth degree; beyond,
The stars had moved, in new formation lay.

I looked and saw, surprised, my trembling hand—
Why tremble here in heaven’s highest peak?
Two reasons my soul came to understand:

That first: no time here; yet time surged unique.
How was it change occurred, perfection stayed?
Doubts seemed answered in my own self-speech.

How could that be? And then my vision strayed
To see an object where I had arrived: 
Upon the ground a lethal scorpion swayed,

Its tail held up and poised in its own pride.
Born in its sign, so must I at last face
That thorn-like wrath stuck present in my side.

Which way to go—positioned near his place,
I could not reach that final door, or move?
‘Look up, look up!’ I heard the words of grace;

And as I did, I saw that Eagle’s love
Soaring, spectacular down from its height,
Swooping, for its sole purpose thus to save: 

Save me—and every woman, every wight,
Who called upon the Name above all names .
I heard the rushing and the wings of flight.

The speck above from that death cluster’s sign
Became in its awesome, awful descent
Much more, as when Ezekiel’s Cherubim

Sounded, reality’s fabric then rent:
Revealing four faces that never turned,
Always moving in direction straight;

The Ox I’d seen before , and from him learnt 
The medicine of God for my own good;
The Lion’s courage, too, I’d faced , which meant

No harm; instead, let courage be my food,
That I might persevere and see at last
The throne upon which sat the living God;

The One … desire of every nation past
And present. Now the Eagle’s eye just stared
And through me drilled—some morsel to its taste,

X-rayed even; and no molecule spared
Before the Eye to which all details mattered;
I saw my life in reels one instant shared,

And there was no excuse that I could utter!
The Eagle, Ox and Lion; and one left
To see: that Face—and now as if a shutter

Opened, myself I felt began to lift
As by an Eagle’s powerful claw uprisen,
Above the door, scaling its steepest cliff.

No effort thus, He took me into heaven.
My seventieth year, eighth month, and ninth day
I was—through Him—absolved, fully forgiven 

To see the One who’d never been away ;
Consistent my whole life through, always there,
Prompting and guiding, howsoever I strayed.

But as I entered the vast, crystal sphere
That had no doors, but mansions interlocked,
And interlocking, every space was here

And every time in future too, all clocked;
To view just one detail—to view it all.
The scale of it weighed on the bravest, shocked—

Nothing was lacking, for its larder’s full.
I knew not how I knew—beyond the facts—
That this forever would fulfil my soul:

I saw the universe—and in a box
That I could see right through, all contained,
As it were matches a stationer stocked!

So small beside the Sphere some Breath sustained;
But if that were cause for profoundest awe
So be it; now, another reason reigned,

Producing trembling unaccounted for:
Before me, where the Eagle placed me down, 
Four living creatures whom no lightning seared

As round one wild whirlwind circled a throne
Belonging to One the heathens called Gu La ,
Which Babylonians named Enki, their Great One;

Though lost to them, the true God was not far:
In every conscience, and on every lip.
Above—I saw Aquarian , countless stars,

Configure into what was like Man’s shape
Who held the waters—with only one hand—
Massive and plentiful, inside one cup 

With which to baptise Earth at His command;
Renew the soil, refresh polluted seas
And raise the dead who’d gone, gone … far beyond

All mortal sight—(soon, soon He comes !)—and me?
I stood dumb-struck, not sure my focus was:
The vault, its brilliant lapis lazuli ?

Or where His waist of glowing metal, flawless,
And upwards, full of fire, His body soared,
Where it appeared one rainbow formed His aura

Whose presence outwards, inwards to his core
Drew every living eye to worship Him?
Yes, that, I blinked—saw where what eyes were for!

Instantly, I fell, lifeless in every limb:
I’d seen the living Lord! And lay there blind,
Hearing, their “Holy, Holy, Holy” hymn

That rinsed the cosmos to its outer rind;
Not only heaven and its highest point,
But down beneath where quarks and gluons grind

To make the matter which His will appoints
To do His will…

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Notes

l. 21. a lethal scorpion. See Canto 1, note iii for more on the Scorpion’s unique function as the sign of death and—coupled with the eagle—also the sign of resurrection.
ll. 31–32. Save me … / … the Name above all names. ‘Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them’ (Hebrews 7:25, KJV).
l. 36. Ezekiel’s Cherubim. The Cherubim are mentioned several times in the book of Ezekiel, but the most detailed and vivid descriptions are found in Ezekiel 1 and Ezekiel 10:

And within it there were figures resembling four living beings. And this was their appearance: they had human form. Each of them had four faces and four wings. Their legs were straight and their feet were like a calf’s hoof, and they sparkled like burnished bronze. Under their wings on their four sides were human hands. As for the faces and wings of the four of them, their wings touched one another; their faces did not turn when they moved, each went straight forward. As for the form of their faces, each had the face of a man, all four had the face of a lion on the right, the face of a bull on the left, and the face of an eagle. Such were their faces. Their wings were spread out above; each had two touching another being, and two covering their bodies. And each went straight forward; wherever the spirit was about to go, they would go, without turning as they went. In the midst of the living beings there was something that looked like burning coals of fire, like torches darting back and forth among the living beings. The fire was bright, and lightning was flashing from the fire. And the living beings ran to and fro, like bolts of lightning. (Ezekiel 1:5–14, NASB).

l. 40. The Ox I’d seen before. See SW Canto 12.
l. 42. The Lion’s courage, too, I’d faced. See DW Canto 8.
l. 61. To see the One who’d never been away. ‘Everything of the past and everything of the present and everything of the future God creates in the innermost realms of the human soul’ – Meister Eckhart.
l. 83. Gu La. In Mesopotamian mythology, Ea (also known as Enki) was considered the god of wisdom, magic, water, and crafts. He was associated with freshwater sources, especially the Abzu, which was the primeval freshwater ocean that existed beneath the earth. Gu La is a Sumerian term that can be translated as ‘Great Waters’ or ‘Deep Waters,’ symbolizing Ea’s connection to these life-giving waters. Ea was credited with creating humankind and was known as a wise and benevolent deity who cared for humanity. He played a significant role in many myths and legends, offering guidance to humans and other gods alike. His influence extended beyond Babylon, with variations of his character and stories present in other Mesopotamian cultures as well.
l. 87. I saw Aquarian. Aquarius is an air sign and the final one in the zodiac, focusing on broad, intellectual concepts. Known for its innovation, progressivism, rebelliousness, and humanitarian spirit, Aquarius is the most forward-thinking sign. Air energy is connected to the mind, making Aquarius intellectual, curious, and social. Represented by the water-bearer, Aquarius symbolizes a mystical healer who brings life-giving water to the land. In tarot, the Star card depicts Aquarius as a mythical figure, grounded yet reaching for new inspiration to nurture hope and healing. Rooted in collaboration, Aquarius aims to create positive change for the greater good. Located between Capricornus and Pisces, Aquarius is one of the oldest recognized constellations. Its name, meaning ‘water-carrier,’ reflects its association with water. Aquarius was listed by the 2nd-century astronomer Ptolemy and remains one of the 88 modern constellations, found in a region known for watery constellations like Pisces and Cetus. In Babylonian astronomy, Aquarius was identified as “The Great One” and represented the god Ea (Gu La), depicted with an overflowing vase. In Greek mythology, Aquarius is sometimes linked to Deucalion, who survived a great flood with his wife, Pyrrha, aboard a ship. Deucalion is called Noah in the Hebrew tradition: one who survives the wrath of God.
l. 94. soon, soon He comes! At the end of Revelation 22:20, Jesus says, ‘Surely I am coming quickly.’ The response from John is, ‘Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus,’ which conveys the same longing for Christ’s return as ‘Maranatha,’ from 1 Corinthians 16:22, and which means ‘Come, Lord Jesus’.
l. 96. lapis lazuli. A deep-blue metamorphic rock prized for its vivid colour and used for centuries in art, jewellery, and as a pigment. The intense blue of lapis lazuli has been associated with the heavens and spirituality, and it has been historically significant in cultures such as Ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, and the Renaissance. WB Yeats wrote a poem with this title which talks of its cultural significance.

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James Sale has had over 50 books published, most recently, “Mapping Motivation for Top Performing Teams” (Routledge, 2021). He has been nominated by The Hong Kong Review for the 2022 Pushcart Prize for poetry, has won first prize in The Society of Classical Poets 2017 annual competition, and performed in New York in 2019. He is a regular contributor to The Epoch Times. His most recent poetry collection is “StairWell.” For more information about the author, and about his Dante project, visit https://englishcantos.home.blog. To subscribe to his brief, free and monthly poetry newsletter, contact him at [email protected]

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10 Responses

  1. Roy Eugene Peterson

    When I am in the presence of great poets like you, I revel in the revelations of extraordinary insights, transcendental portrayals, and seemingly real mythical creatures. Reading this was like reading prophetic visions of biblical proportions, delving into the religious mysticism of John Milton, and having the Christian qualities of C.S. Lewis. The song, “This is the Age of Aquarius” from the 1970’s came to mind, as well. So much to fathom, so much to savor!

    Reply
    • James Sale

      Thanks Roy, I really appreciate what you’re saying. The thing with all these kind of projects is of course it’s all very well starting off with a great beginning and carrying through with a fantastic middle but always the work is finally judged on how we end it. A recently good example of this would be Game of Thrones. The book series is still uncompleted and the final film series, series 8, was absolutely dreadful. George R. R. Martin clearly didn’t write it; producers wrote it and it shows! I was so looking forward to the ending and then having seen it, I got rid of all the series, all the hard work for the beginning and the middle was wasted because the ending was trashed. So in writing this work the problem with the
      ending is the same as that with the Paradiso: most people like the Inferno and the hell ‘bits’; and the Paradiso itself is very theological. So to put that in context: most people prefer reading the gospels about Jesus and his actions than they do reading St Paul and his epistles to the Romans and the
      Corinthians, which are much more theological. So the big test for me is how this poem ends and I was aware of the challenge when I got there, I’m aware of it now. I’ve given you the start of the ending; it’s quite a long canto but clearly I’ll really be pleased to know what you think: whether I pull it off or not. As you reach the end of Milton, Paradise Lost, or the end of Dante’s Divine Comedy, you think ‘that is deeply satisfying’. That is what I’m attempting to do, reach that point of being deeply satisfying. If you get to read it, let me know what you think. And BTW I am pleased to report that our mutual friend of SCP, Joseph Salemi, has written the introduction to the final volume.

      Reply
  2. Margaret Coats

    I’m impressed here, James, with your use of the stars as a directional marker for yourself, the still-earthly-living speaker who can’t know where he is going. They seem to indicate both the passage of time in a timeless environment, and a change in location. In other words, the zodiac is what you hold onto as the space-time continuum. Space and time do have functions in eternity and in your epic, but especially in heaven, these must be understood in a way as yet unknown to us on earth. Therefore, it’s good to have the zodiac to substitute for the ether. As one of my physics professors said, the hypothetical ether may still be there as the background against which celestial motion and direction can be measured, but as that ethereal ether has turned out to have no physically measurable properties, we don’t use the concept anymore.

    I’m also intrigued by your use of your own zodiac sign (and thanks for pointing out where else in the epic it is important). I’ve forgotten where Dante uses his (Gemini), but I know you must be following him in some respect. I only remember his sign because I have translated one of his canzoni where it is significant–but less so than your scorpion in this canto.

    Also enjoyed your discussion of how it is you can move at all near the heavenly realm and into it (by grace alone). Again, this reminds the reader how far beyond us is this journey you imagine. Glad to read this portion of it.

    Reply
  3. James Sale

    Thanks Margaret for your informed comments on the space-time continuum and the idea of being somewhere beyond it, but somehow having to convey ideas through it. The use of the constellations is ubiquitous throughout the nine cantos of Doorway, and you will find that nearly all of them are mentioned one way or another, or gone through, although there is a puzzle in it where I actually go off into two constellations that are not part of the zodiac – for example, I meet the other poets in Aquila, the Eagle, in Canto 7. Dante’s own birth in Gemini is to be found in Paradiso Canto 22, where he celebrates the fact that his glorious intellect comes from his being born under an air sign, which is the Twin sign. Interestingly enough of course I end the Doorway in the sign of Aquarius, which is also an air sign, another and final sign of the intellect – but also a water (emotion) carrier . However, if you get to read to the end of it (which I hope you do, and which is not included here in this extract), you will see something else quite unusual happens as I make my way through Aquarius and beyond Aquarius (as it were). Yes, by grace alone. That’s what I/you finally conclude when you face it: through your own efforts, not much, but grace, yes, a lot, all of it in fact. Thanks again.

    Reply
  4. jd

    I found this poem or part of very beautiful. I also wanted to tell you how very much I enjoyed stumbling onto the 2022 uTube video of “Classical Figures” poetry. You are such a “natural” MC, that I enjoyed your
    role as much as the poems. Thank you for
    a very enjoyable hour+.

    Reply
    • James Sale

      Thanks JD – beauty is what I want – what we all want – so if you found it so, then I am happy. And thanks too for re-discovering the old uTube video I did – to be honest I’d forgotten all about it, but rediscovering I am a ‘natural MC’ is very gratifying!

      Reply
  5. Cynthia Erlandson

    I really enjoyed this, James. There’s an overwhelming amount of both knowledge and imagination at work in your tale. I love the description of the Eagle, and its carrying you and placing you down; and of Ezekiel’s Cherubim. “Reality’s fabric then rent” is profound, as is your inclusion of the theme of time. There’s so much here — congratulations on finishing it!

    Reply
  6. James Sale

    Thanks Cynthia – really pleased you like it – and I think you’ll like the ending too! But the work is not done: I am currently involved with a number of people in planning a 40 minute film version for 2026 of HellWard. If that were successful, then clearly the other two volumes would need to be done. The great thing about the creativity of God is that it is endless, and so, being in the image, we humans also have that endless capacity to create more! Exciting stuff!

    Reply
  7. ABB

    Some excellent imagery in the initial lines. I’m struck by some of the fusions: “hand” and “wing”—earthly and celestial, conveying a transformation; “welded as metals are fused to alloy” with “no rust here to destroy”—another fusion that adds a sense of permanence, the enduring nature of love. The bit about quarks and gluons grounds all this in modern scientific understanding. The rich imagery continues throughout, as is characteristic of your work.

    One thing I’d note about your epic, in contrast to Dante and all the other great epics, is how you change from the first volume to the third. Dante goes from hell to paradise, but he isn’t really any different for it in terms of his interior characterization. In fact, this is a much more personal epic than the Divine Comedy. Dante is the viewpoint character, but the focus is much more on those he encounters. In this it is the opposite: those you encounter along the way reflect the person you are. And as far as epic goes, Dante isn’t unique. Odysseus goes on adventures but isn’t really any different at the end. Aeneas founds Rome but he couldn’t be said to ever change. Satan is just as delusional at the end of PL as at the beginning—which of course, for him, is the point. Spenser, Tasso, Ariosto—epics with huge cast of characters, lots of great action certainly, but no one really changes. There is only one exception to this in the whole of epic literature: Achilles. After the scene in Priam’s tent, the rage fades. And when Odysseus encounters him in Hades, he changes again, regretting his lifelong pursuit of glory and acknowledging that he’d rather be a slave in the world above than king of the underworld.

    Epic is more about putting together different character types and seeing them clash. But in your case there is much deeper characterization, which of course reflects the fact that we’re writing in the wake of the development of the novel. Your epic is ‘modern’ in this sense, and in this sense more comparable to something like Eugene Onegin; unlike that, of course, it’s not a domestic story but a conventionally ‘epic’ one in terms of its scope and emphasis on supernatural events—the old is layered into the new.

    Reply
    • James Sale

      As always, Andrew, your comments are perceptive and insightful: I was myself pleased with the alloy image, since it communicated exactly that sense of seamless blend and strength that I wanted. Your wider ideas about the nature of epic and character are also challenging. As I’ve said before: one cannot comment evaluatively on one’s own work – that is for others to do – but one can comment on what one thinks one is doing (given the reality that Socrates observed: ‘I soon realised that poets do not compose their poems with real knowledge, but by inborn talent and inspiration, like seers and prophets who also say many things without any understanding of what they say . . .’ I was not aware, therefore, till you said it, of the fixity of character (Achilles excepted) that the epics seem to portray. Of course, one is aware that Satan does not change – glories in fact in his unalterable mind and hostility. But the case of Odysseus is curious: does he change through all these experiences he experiences? Perhaps not, but then again perhaps he does learn important lessons. He wins against Polyphemous by being ‘Nobody’, but then disastrously breaks cover and vaunts his name; at the end of the poem, in order to defeat the suitors, he becomes ‘nobody’ again, only this time he doesn’t break cover till the ‘right moment’ (the Kairos moment). Thanks for your comments – wonderful.

      Reply

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