03 February | Sacred Readings v1


My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear—a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.

The “I” in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I do—for… Continue reading

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02 February | Sacred Readings v1


In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, “Master, I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee for ever more.”

But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.

And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and… Continue reading

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01 February | Sacred Readings v1


You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen,—the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives,—I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the curséd thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in… Continue reading

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31 January | Sacred Readings v1

Dawn came; and Ógun stood upon a hill
To Westward, and turned to take a last farewell
Of his old queen of cities—but white and dense.
O’er harbouring woods and unremembering Ífè
A mist was laid and blotted all. . Beyond,
As islands from a morning sea, arose
Two lone grey hills; and Ógun dreamed he saw
Again those early days, an age gone by… Continue reading

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30 January | Sacred Readings v1

And in that cry King Ógun heard the doom…
And wearily
He spoke his last sad words: “My boyhood scarce
Had ended on Arámfè’s happy hills
When I came here with Odudúwa; with him,
Lovingly I watched this ancient city growing,
And planted the grand forests for a robe
For queenly Ífè. I have grown old with Ífè:
Sometimes I feel that Ógun did become… Continue reading

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29 January | Sacred Readings v1


But murmurs rose
From the young men—suppressed at first, then louder—
Until their leader, gaining courage, cried:
“Empty our life has been—while from far plains,
Vibrant with the romance, the living lustre,
Orányan’s name bestows, great rumours came
To mock our laggard seasons; and each year
Mórimi’s festival recalls alike
The hero’s name and Ífè’s greatness. Must
All Ífè slumber that the old may… Continue reading

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