Parsifal: PreFace

When we last left off the Great Work of story, Parsifal went it alone on the quest shared by all. Parsifal was unaware, unsure of the quest itself, of that being sought.

The first secret herein reveals the Green Knight and Parsifal are one and the same; or, perhaps these are the two faces comprising our protagonist. Two lives lived in parallel.

You have heard the name ‘Knight Templar’ and assumed it referred to a man,

The second, open secret: Parsifal is a broad. A simple wench, to use the modern subtext. A gal.

A gal questing but for what holy grail? She worried about it not. Journeys become. Destinations are a drag. She spun infinity effortlessly. She worked her method. Her method was the achievement not the means to achievement.

This was her Tao, her manner and way of being:

learned from Elder Brother in secret;

thanks to Knecht;

apologies to his Shadow, still wandering alone;

And no regrets coyote.

[Verticies. Ways of being. (Berger’s Ways of Seeing).

Multiple levels of discourse take time to discern.]

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But our Parsigal remains.

Our Parsigal is a tangential elaborator.

(S)he is something new: the contention made (here), at least.

One is left to presume.

Hurumph and hazaa.

Herald this return from the heavens and hells.

Ringing in the peals of bells and pounded from the skins covering drum heads.

Issuing forth in the drone of electric strings plucked and amplified

In stereo.

The return may come before the end of next summer.

It is not good when it is done.

It is done when it is good.

Parsigal struggles here, locked in the struggle box. Feeling like an empty empath.

Some comment: that is okay, she is pretty (enough).

Never. Pretty is never enough. Work. Absurd. Always.

Multiple primary sources note her propensity for laughter and love of comedy.

“No one laughs like….”

“Genuinely funny…”

Multiple romantic partners:

“You are comfortable,” whispered with serious gravity.

Well, the pretense of gravity. They needed something basic. Parsigal was simple but never basic. Basic exists in limited misery. Simple is elegant methodology.

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Stars are everywhere.

Most come out during the day.

It is hard to see the stars of the day.

And hard to understand the night stars so easily seen in the dark.

Two stars become a planet with the application of the function of a

Goddess/Godhead. One : another.

So came Ae.

S(he). Cloaked. Parsifal.

Oft confused.

Jade eyes that turn amber and brown when upon looked.

Only the Grail knows this:

Morning and nightly star.

She is a knight hand-made from a handmaid.

She will sow. Sew.

A she-chevalier for he.

True amateur. Feminine anew. With masculinity imbued.

She wears all the colors of Joseph’s coat. The one the Argonauts eventually obtain, no?

Ha, some dummy thought her a witch who turned the men to swine like legion running off some cliff, like clumsy wildabeasts rushing in a herd towards their own demise.

The lesson she meant to impart in these old epics is: never cast your pearls before swine. Never haggle over the price of an irregular pearl, either. Is it more valuable in its uniqueness? A snowflake impeccability of form. Or is it grotesque? Ill in uniform. From an uninformed maker? A non- artisan oyster? What crass and craven questions could one scratch if not these?

Circular questions.

Improperly tangled loops.

Emergent, epiphenomenon of complex systems.

The third law of thermodynamics misinterpreted.

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Her name has been spelled too many ways.

She cannot rightly recall her writeful name;

Her dexter handle;

The a droite moniker (not the a gauche one).

All titles have power. And to have is to hold.

All titles can be reduced to words of language.

Not all titles can be expressed with words of language.

Collared without collaring. Maverick whose brand is a lack of brand.

Feral gal child, spirit undomesticated.

No tags.

This is our Parsigal.

This is the story.