"On the Steps of the Temple of Deoch" ((Inuyoko Mass #37))
Hello, everyone. My name is Inuyoko T’Alveni. I am a Priestess of this Shrine, and a member of its clergy since deoch 53. Last double-moon, we played a little word game inspired by Cleric Tristam’s “Drunken Tristam” classes. Today, I’d like to discuss a work of poetry I came across in the Library of Loures. An old work, written by Valdemar “Clockwork” Norrsbruck, entitled “On the Steps of the Temple of Deoch.” Up front, I’d like to give a content warning of sorts to everyone who came today. The subject of this Mass deals with heavy topics of death and loss. Nothing that anyone of this Trinity is not used to hearing discussed, but still, I want everyone to be aware so you may adjust your expectations accordingly.
Now, those of you who know me know that poetry analysis is not really my strong suit, but I am very captivated by it as an artform. This is a work that I have surprisingly not encountered before, drawn as I am to anything that mentions Deoch in the archives of the library. It is too long to read here in its entirety, though I encourage you all to do so if you have the opportunity. Its freeform structure was enticing to me, but as I read it, it was the emotion of the work that I found myself most drawn in by. We hear about a side of the spark that isn’t often felt. Or at least, isn’t often talked about. That side is pain. Regret. The torture of “eternity”.
Those of us who feel the comfort in Sgrios often do so because of two things: the protection he offers to our spark, and the security of knowing that that too will one day come to an end, and with it bring relief. But what if that knowledge is out of one’s grasp? And what if it is within it, but offers no comfort? In Valdemar’s work, we find him spending his Mundane days filled with immense love between him and his partner. Enjoying the moments of joy that come with spending life with another, but feeling allured by the then-recent phenomenon of Aislinghood. But when he is called, or perhaps compelled, into the dream himself, his lover is not. At first, this is fine. They still spend their time together, but he now has a newfound power and responsibility to flex and test. Eventually, disaster finds them, likely in the form of fierce Dubhaimid, who take both of their lives in an unexpected attack. But on the other side, Valdemar experiences something we likely all have – the cold touch of death, followed by the warm return to this grey realm as Nyarlathotep raises his “bony finger”, signaling his exodus from that which has replaced the softly lapping waves of Grinneal. However, for his lover, there is no such reincarnation. And flashing forward to the then-present, where the story begins and ends, is Valdemar, seated against the cold stones of this very shrine, post-Mass, as the other Aislings have moved on. He is still, contemplative…broken. He asks of the stone:
“O, great stones of the temple do you remember my beloved?
Do you remember her laughter pealing through this vast stone hall?”
And again he pleads:
“O, great stones of the temple, do you regret the loss of devotion so profound?
Do you mourn for our great passion felled in its full bloom?”
He is haunted by the loss of that by which we all are made whole: love. And with each recurring excursion into that cthonic realm, he is likewise haunted by her visage.
“How many times have I slipped from this bright world
fled from Danaan's hot gaze
to that shadowy realm?
every time she is waiting there
gazing at me in mute sorrow
so silent, so sad, so beautiful
until the bony finger points
the compact of the League of Darkness is honored
and I am restored to the living earth;”
For most of us, the spark is a gift. We revel in celebration of Deoch’s work, praise Sgrios’ mercy, and pass on our blessings to one another through compassion. But to him it feels like a curse. For one thrust into the light of the spark and immediately punished…for one wracked with such grief with seemingly no relief in sight…what comfort does the promise of Sgrios’ mercy bring? Glioca’s compassion? Deoch’s affirmation that there is always more to see, to learn, to love? I am not sure. He asks again:
“When shall I break this cruel cycle, and slip finally into the welcoming night?
When will I become whole again?”
My heart breaks for Valdemar. I did not know him, but I hope that in time he was able to find the answer to that question. I suppose it is different for all of us. But I do believe in the power of what our trinity stands for, even in the face of such devastating events. And though we all will feel the pangs of these heartbreaks at some point in our lives, there is always something in this world to carry us forward, to deliver us from despair. I have to believe so.
Finally, the poem ends as it began.
“I am alone now,
alone on the steps of the temple of Deoch
the last mundane priest smiles and nods as he hurries past
leaving me to my thoughts
the sun is high in the sky now
and the children of Suomi are long gone
only I remain
and the brutal, silent stones of the temple”
But we are not alone. And these stones are far from silent. I can hear the echoes of my words off their surface. The shuffling and whisperings. The soft crackling of the warm flames. We are here, together, sharing in this dream as we do each double-moon, and for me, that is a true blessing. Thank you for being here with me.
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