There Is No Other Way To Know It

I have come from the edge of the world.
I have come from the lungs of the wind,
With a thing I have seen so awesome
Even Dzambul could not sing it.
With a fear in my heart so sharp
It will cut the strongest of metals.

In the ancient tales it is told
In a time that is older than Qorqyt,
Who took from the wood of Syrghaj
The first qobyz, and the first song--
It is told that a land far distant
Is the place of the Kirghiz Light.

In a place where words are unknown,
And eyes shine like candles at night,
And the face of God is a presence
Behind the mask of the sky--
At the tall black rock in the desert,
In the time of the final days.

If the place were not so distant,
If words were known, and spoken,
Then the God might be a Gold ikon,
Or a page in a paper book.
But It comes as the Kirghiz Light--
There is no other way to know It.

The roar of Its voice is deafness,
The flash of Its light is blindness.
The floor of the desert rumbles,
And Its face cannot be borne.
And a man cannot be the same,
After seeing the Kirghiz Light.

For I tell you that I have seen It
In a place which is older than darkness,
Where even Allah cannot reach.
As you see, my beard is an ice-field,
I walk with a stick to support me,
But this light must change us to children.

Grateful Dead: Dark Star

And now I cannot walk far,
For a baby must learn to walk.
And my words are reaching your ears
As the meaningless sounds of a baby.
For the Kirghiz Light took my eyes,
Now I sense all Earth like a baby.

It is north, for a six-day ride,
Through the steep and death-gray canyons,
Then across the stony desert
To the mountain whose peak is a white dzurt.
And if you have passed without danger,
The place of the black rock will find you.

But if you would not be born,
Then stay with your warm red fire,
And stay with your wife, in your tent,
And the Light will never find you,
And your heart will grow heavy with age,
And your eyes will shut only to sleep.

--Thomas Pynchon
The Aqyn's Song