My mind was drifting. I came upon her face emerging as from a vision of the depths of a vast ocean.
She was as beautiful the Sun.
The suns dying rays lengthened shadows that filled every gap in my mind.
So did I see her beauty. Her star filled eyes pierced my vision as a dream that was not.
Back, back, back I traveled to what was and truly is the beginning of the human persona.
These images, though graven, mark our past and are still carried today in many forms.
Dark reminders of our link with the future through our past.
Birthplace–though we are diverse, and of many cultures, languages, dialects, faiths and values.
We are all from the same bloodline. Therein lay the beauty of civilization.
We are all one, and from the first life–begins all.
u r vstng a lttl crnr of th wrld...wlcm 
You aren’t alone in your thinking. Below is a partial copy/paste from research I did for one of my Dream Diary posts at http://21shadesofblue.com/2014/07/01/dream-diary-0007-night-of-06312014-crawling-out-from-under-the-thumbs-of-the-wrong-button-pushing-matriarchs/ which you may find enlightening in it’s entirity if these two quotes and the poem by the famous William Butler Yeats make sense to you. I’ll point out that the Ribb in the Yeats poem is referring to what we are told in the Genesis account of creation, of how the first woman Eve was created by God, when God took a rib out of the first man Adam after God put Adam into a deep sleep, and drew Eve’s full form out of the rib, breathing life into it, making it a her.
“When Freud’s and Jung’s theories are described, Freud’s view of the unconscious is generally represented in terms of the psychosexual stages of development, while Jung’s theories of archetypes and the collective unconscious are most commonly discussed. The impression is that Jung, but not Freud, conceptualized and thought important the presence of inherited memories in Mankind. However, Freud’s references to structures that are similar to those of Jung’s collective unconscious appear to occur first in Totem and Taboo. Freud employed the then accepted theory of inherited memories put forth by Lamark, a theory that is proving to be not so far off the mark according to recent research. This theory held that humans pass on some of their memories to their offspring through some unknown mechanism, which was later thought to be genes. Indeed, genetically inherited memory may be responsible for traumas and conflicts held unconsciously but outside an individual’s capability to recall; and such phenomena as Oedipal complexes may result from trace memories held and amplified in racial memory or what Jung would call Collective Unconscious.”
— http://www.mind-development.eu/freud.html
“collective unconscious, term introduced by psychiatrist Carl Jung to represent a form of the unconscious (that part of the mind containing memories and impulses of which the individual is not aware) common to mankind as a whole and originating in the inherited structure of the brain. It is distinct from the personal unconscious, which arises from the experience of the individual. According to Jung, the collective unconscious contains archetypes, or universal primordial images and ideas.”
— http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/125572/collective-unconscious
“Supernatural Songs”
by William Butler Yeats
I: Ribb at the Tomb of Baile and Aillinn
Because you have found me in the pitch-dark night
With open book you ask me what I do.
Mark and digest my tale, carry it afar
To those that never saw this tonsured head
Nor heard this voice that ninety years have cracked.
Of Baile and Aillinn you need not speak,
All know their tale, all know what leaf and twig,
What juncture of the apple and the yew,
Surmount their bones; but speak what none ha’ve heard.
The miracle that gave them such a death
Transfigured to pure substance what had once
Been bone and sinew; when such bodies join
There is no touching here, nor touching there,
Nor straining joy, but whole is joined to whole;
For the intercourse of angels is a light
Where for its moment both seem lost, consumed.
Here in the pitch-dark atmosphere above
The trembling of the apple and the yew,
Here on the anniversary of their death,
The anniversary of their first embrace,
Those lovers, purified by tragedy,
Hurry into each other’s arms; these eyes,
By water, herb and solitary prayer
Made aquiline, are open to that light.
Though somewhat broken by the leaves, that light
Lies in a circle on the grass; therein
I turn the pages of my holy book.
II: Ribb denounces Patrick
An abstract Greek absurdity has crazed the man –
Recall that masculine Trinity. Man, woman, child (a daughter or a son),
That’s how all natural or supernatural stories run.
Natural and supernatural with the self-same ring are wed.
As man, as beast, as an ephemeral fly begets, Godhead begets Godhead,
For things below are copies, the Great Smaragdine Tablet said.
Yet all must copy copies, all increase their kind;
When the conflagration of their passion sinks, damped by the body or the mind,
That juggling nature mounts, her coil in their embraces twined.
The mirror-scaled serpent is multiplicity,
But all that run in couples, on earth, in flood or air, share God that is but three,
And could beget or bear themselves could they but love as He.
III: Ribb in Ecstasy
What matter that you understood no word!
Doubtless I spoke or sang what I had heard
In broken sentences. My soul had found
All happiness in its own cause or ground.
Godhead on Godhead in sexual spasm begot
Godhead. Some shadow fell. My soul forgot
Those amorous cries that out of quiet come
And must the common round of day resume.
IV: There
There all the barrel-hoops are knit,
There all the serpent-tails are bit,
There all the gyres converge in one,
There all the planets drop in the Sun.
V: Ribb considers Christian Love insufficient
Why should I seek for love or study it?
It is of God and passes human wit.
I study hatred with great diligence,
For that’s a passion in my own control,
A sort of besom that can clear the soul
Of everything that is not mind or sense.
Why do I hate man, woman Or event?
That is a light my jealous soul has sent.
From terror and deception freed it can
Discover impurities, can show at last
How soul may walk when all such things are past,
How soul could walk before such things began.
Then my delivered soul herself shall learn
A darker knowledge and in hatred turn
From every thought of God mankind has had.
Thought is a garment and the soul’s a bride
That cannot in that trash and tinsel hide:
Hatred of God may bring the soul to God.
At stroke of midnight soul cannot endure
A bodily or mental furniture.
What can she take until her Master give!
Where can she look until He make the show!
What can she know until He bid her know!
How can she live till in her blood He live!
VI: He and She
As the moon sidles up
Must she sidle up,
As trips the scared moon
Away must she trip:
‘His light had struck me blind
Dared I stop’.
She sings as the moon sings:
‘I am I, am I;
The greater grows my light
The further that I fly’.
All creation shivers
With that sweet cry
VII: What Magic Drum?
He holds him from desire, all but stops his breathing lest
primordial Motherhood forsake his limbs, the child no longer rest,
Drinking joy as it were milk upon his breast.
Through light-obliterating garden foliage what magic drum?
Down limb and breast or down that glimmering belly
move his mouth and sinewy tongue.
What from the forest came? What beast has licked its young?
VIII: Whence had they come?
Eternity is passion, girl or boy
Cry at the onset of their sexual joy
‘For ever and for ever’; then awake
Ignorant what Dramatis personae spake;
A passion-driven exultant man sings out
Sentences that he has never thought;
The Flagellant lashes those submissive loins
Ignorant what that dramatist enjoins,
What master made the lash. Whence had they come,
The hand and lash that beat down frigid Rome?
What sacred drama through her body heaved
When world-transforming Charlemagne was conceived?
IX: The Four Ages of Man
He with body waged a fight,
But body won; it walks upright.
Then he struggled with the heart;
Innocence and peace depart.
Then he struggled with the mind;
His proud heart he left behind.
Now his wars on God begin;
At stroke of midnight God shall win.
X: Conjunctions
If Jupiter and Saturn meet,
What a cop of mummy wheat!
The sword’s a cross; thereon He died:
On breast of Mars the goddess sighed.
XI: A Needle’s Eye
All the stream that’s roaring by
Came out of a needle’s eye;
Things unborn, things that are gone,
From needle’s eye still goad it on.
XII:Meru
Civilisation is hooped together, brought
Under a mle, under the semblance of peace
By manifold illusion; but man’s life is thought,
And he, despite his terror, cannot cease
Ravening through century after century,
Ravening, raging, and uprooting that he may come
Into the desolation of reality:
Egypt and Greece, good-bye, and good-bye, Rome!
Hermits upon Mount Meru or Everest,
Caverned in night under the drifted snow,
Or where that snow and winter’s dreadful blast
Beat down upon their naked bodies, know
That day brings round the night, that before dawn
His glory and his monuments are gone.
I wrote the poem as would a computer attempting to solve a navigating problem for space travel. Viewing my start point and requiring reference waypoints for my completion. Thank you for commenting. I enjoyed reading your work and analysis.
Thank you for stopping by… 🙂
– ISpontein
“…I came upon her face emerging as a vision from the depths….”
Sail.
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