Black Books

Thrice five towers surround the castle. Thrice six gates are in the walls. Thrice seven great halls are in the castle.

The green stream flows below.

The dark cloud is above, over it the fire, the eternal one that you drew.

There are caves in the mountain, there lies the stacked gold, the solidified fire. Where are the men?

The castle is empty. Perhaps they left.

I see Philemon in the golden house of splendor-alone.

Where is Baucis? Did she die, no, she lives, I am Baucis. She stands behind the wise one, her hand touches his throne.

They are alone. Where are the men? Who lives in the palaces? No one. Everything is ready. Does no one come?

Call now, Philemon! Your voice is weak.

And I have no voice that human ears could hear.

Do men not see the castle? Is the cloud covering it? Yes, it is, it hides the fire.

What grief, this black cloud!

Where did it come from- smoke below the fire! How strange!

Are you a mourner, a hermit, Philemon? Do you grieve that your fire is hidden? Green water flows around your castle.

Where is a bridge?

There is no bridge there, Oh Philemon. How can people get across?

You, pontiff, should build a bridge, a wide bridge from rare and precious stones.

Why do you grieve? Why do you hide the fire with the cloud?

Do you grieve because of your solitude?

You are not alone, I am with you. Build the bridge, I accompany you.” ~Jung’s Soul, The Black Books, Vol. VI, Page 287-288