The Image Of The Rose From The Height Of An Ageless Age

A creation is total only when man reserves the metaphysical significance of a destiny that passes the test of time.

I look at this rose with candor, with chosen consideration, with the gentle eyes of a story painter, as I would move among the paintings of a distant history reconstructed by the snapshot of a moment of wandering extracted from the command of an alien, imaginary time that will never belong to me. Or at least not really. For nothing resembles its beauty, so close to the reproduction of a living, modern picture, with a landscape springing from another life, from another story, from a source of the fabulous that includes a grandiose destiny, an unforeseen journey full of mysteries and a vocation full of naturalness.

I look at him in amazement, in admiration, through the power of the word Nassegientyum (the word of God in the light of an eternal torch), in an attempt to comprehend the victorious temperament of a nobleman set on an almost insane search for a new wonder of the world during an endless flight above the desert. I notice the white sand, so fine, but full of sadness, which for millions of years contains in each of its grains a martyr’s soul, but also a part of the whole of a mystery known only to the ancient Kabbalists. Nothing changes over time, they all come and go, but the desert remains the same. The Pyramid of Khufu, the Sphinx and the Song of the Harpist engraved in the stone tomb of King Antef II, are still a place of honor in the memory of the present.

So many times I have tried to forget who I am, to forget who I was, just to live through a rose, to give everything for it, “prime matter”, the key to immortality, but I cannot realize it in the light of a modern vision, rather only by dominating the atmosphere of another world contained as if in a painting by Valerie Anne Kelly. It refers to other times, to other experiences, to other places in the desert, because that is where its kind comes from, with thorns and prestige.

But no one knows why roses exist and what their end is in a creation that is not based on the obsession with originality, but on visualization and attention to the alleged “reality”.

Leadership: Does your significance in the world begin to acquire a sense of fulfillment, of accomplishment, of a whole, by increasing the tendency to receive the message contained in a destiny that transcends time, space and history?

The rose, something more than a history, has a unique meaning in the world, a special emphasis on the reputation of being impeccable, because it clearly reveals the power of those Egyptians whom Herodotus called “the most religious people”. I am glad that because of him, and according to the depths of my soul, with the body I clothe with solar force, I no longer have to think of life or death, as both designate the fulfillment of a creation that deliberately mixes the register of the miraculous with that of the supernatural.

“Follow your desire and do good to yourself, as long as you live”, the artist’s voice of this passing world whispers to me secretly, in the context of the manifestation of a higher reality. And like any Egyptian who respects what is written in the book of Kohelet, the rose – enlivened by the frankness of a Boccaccio and the naturalness of an explorer of universal topos, continues to tell me its purpose in the world: “I have blessed those who died in ancient times, more than the living who are now alive.”

But no one returns to the desert just to listen to the confessions of a sensitive, wise destiny, chained by the god Ra in a personification of desire, but also of supreme elegance, or in a personification of legendary figures. For no one knows my past, no one tries to look at me with the eyes of an artist, no one animates me with more sensitivity than the one who has lived more lives, knowing himself caught between several worlds.

That is why it is better for my destiny to be foreign to the wisdom of this world, for it is better to reveal myself behind an impenetrable enigma, elucidated only by the ancient Kabbalists, and which hides depths full of pain, full of joy, than to give this existence an unusual meaning.

Leadership: Do all your thoughts form the image of a creation that has common points in representing the conception of the world and life in the composition of a bookish destiny?

Even if I listened to the words of Imhotep or the words of the skillful narrator Herdedef, I could not overlook the fears of people who betray their souls just to get good food. I couldn’t help but notice the color of the sky in the west when, after a war, everything was bathed in blood. I have seen animals feed on the meat of other animals, worms that live on other organisms, how plants change according to the season.

The painter encompasses them all in a vivid picture, with the brush of a ray of light which, passing from one medium to another, makes everything precious, blends perfectly and acquires a unitary, deeper meaning. And the same brush, considering the decipherment of the symbolic substratum of a work with spiritual content, is contradicted by something contrary to the natural, being immediately disturbed by the effort to deepen the meaning of the term Sycretexhium, summing up the promise of a purely imaginary, illusory happiness.

The universe has chosen its gods. One of the gods hid his identity under the cloak of an earthly king, the king outlined the image of a sage, and the sage dared to become a true miracle of nature. Only the saints know that this is the secret of the Great Work. And I am more than a saint, I am a Creator who has surpassed himself to receive what the universe has and can offer him: a star in the sky and the much-coveted immortality.

The most spectacular phase of leadership is a journey through time, it means following in the footsteps of the legendary destiny of the man who managed to survive an age without old age due to the understanding of things that cannot be interpreted before they happen.

My involvement in the process of “reconstituting” the image of a rose from a height of an ageless age is best revealed in an excerpt from the novel Pharaoh, written by Boleslaw Prus:

“Dress as beautifully as you can and do not allow your heart to grieve. For this is the life of man. Pleasures are like peaks, and sufferings like precipice valleys, and only altogether make up life, which is like the ragged chain of the Libyan mountains, which we look at with admiration. The man whose heart no longer beats not only does not grieve over the grief of another, but also does not enjoy his own life, however beautiful it may be.

What good is the beauty of life then, if you redeem it with pain and tears of blood? Priest Pentuer asks the astrologer Menes.

The night was getting darker. Menes wrapped himself in his cloak and replied:

- Whenever such thoughts overwhelm you, go to one of our temples and look at the walls adorned with faces of people, animals, trees, rivers and stars like those in the world in which we live. To the uneducated man, these paintings are priceless, and perhaps many have wondered what they are for and why so much work is wasted on making them. But the sage approaches with holiness and, embracing them with his eyes, reads in them the history of ancient times and the mysteries of wisdom.”

This is my wisdom: Everything is repeated, but in a different version, and it will be repeated until the number of people born on earth equals the number of angels who once fell from paradise. Angels, or the embodied spirits of nature.

The Image Of The Rose From The Height of An Ageless Age is the image of a man who was able to produce an effective engagement in a symbolized universe, to discover himself behind the realistic scenario of a story destiny that was not interrupted by the vicissitudes of history.