Hyperions Grace - Thursday Evening Poetry
Move out of your shadows, take on new tasks and adventures, and follow Hyperions Grace, following the light up, will always help us.
Thoughts
In Greek mythology, Hyperion is the titan of heavenly light or the watcher from above. Hyperion is also the largest tree in the world, a redwood in California whose exact location is kept secret. The tree reaches far up, building a spiritual and literal bridge between its roots in the soil and its crown in the sky.
I wanted to write about God and the common desire to find someone or something who can pick you up like a kite by an autumn breeze and make everything right. This desire is a remnant of childhood when our parents seemingly had that power and role in our lives.
God himself, though, is a cliché. However, somehow, Hyperion plopped into my mind and could take a more literal role than God. This poem is as much about the tree as the titan.
What makes trees — giant trees — fascinating is the speed at which they grow; compared to the universe, it's fast, but compared to us, it is slow. Trees, in fact, grow stronger the slower they grow and produce weaker wood when they race into the sky. If a tree could pick us up, we would be ash and dust before we were up. This slowness signifies strength; haste is for the weak and dominated.
Humans being made out of clay is a famous metaphor. It lends itself to this because clay is naturally plentiful and easily formed into many useful tools. It symbolizes our connection to nature and the fact that we are not special. What makes us unique is our skin that bears scars and our blood infused with our passion. Clay, found in clay pits, symbolizes the lowest level, our start on the ground to reach heaven. We need to make our own wings somehow.
Finally, my observation is that whatever will rescue or free you can't be found in anything external, be it a titan, a tree, or any belief. You can not rest in your achievements or the knowledge of your past, pain, or happiness. All these things throw shadows, but if we rest too long, they become meaningless and won't help us anymore.
Moving out of our shadows, taking on new tasks and adventures, and following Hyperions Grace, following the light up, will always help us.
Curious.
Love this poem and the ideas behind it. The stanza about the unrefined piece of clay is especially evocative with its double meaning. I, too, think there's a power in trees, specific trees that surrounded you in childhood that you didn't think twice about then, but now, when you see one, it takes you back. For me it's the cottonwood. Their size, shape, the way the leaves dance in the most imperceptible breeze. It was a fixture in the background of my life growing up in the Sandhills of Nebraska. Thanks for this poem!