Mare Magnum Mentis


“Hic sumus in mari magno mentis, natantes inter pisces demonicos . . .”
— Lines found in a bottle at sea

Here we are
in the Great Mind Sea,
swimming among demon fish.

The Oceanic Mind
is subject to constant storms.
We are part of the universal mind
unaware that all our tempests
come from being animated timber
tossed on a turbulent sea—
the Sea of Storms.

This is a sea in which battles rage
incessantly, between two forces:
angels and demons.

It is here
that the Monsters of the Deep
devour little fishes;
and we, without knowing it,
are the little fishes.

Trapped in fish consciousness,
we are not even aware
of the Monsters of the Deep
who seek to devour us on a daily basis:
who get their energy
from our life blood,
their joy from our suffering,
their pleasure from our pain.

We are unaware of the very element
in which we swim:
unaware of the Mind Ocean
and its storm-tossed waves:
its angels, its demons, its naumachia
or never-ending sea battles.

We cannot even drown
because we are fishes.
We can only be eaten.
And without knowing it,
we are eaten every day.

Here we are  
in the Great Mind Sea,
swimming among demon fish.

Lasha Darkmoon

Dr Lasha Darkmoon (b.1978) is an Anglo-American ex-academic with higher degrees in Classics whose political articles and poems have been translated into several languages. Most of her political essays can be found at The Occidental Observer and The TruthSeeker. Her own website,, is now within the top 1 percent of websites in the world according to the Alexa ranking system.

8 thoughts to “Mare Magnum Mentis”

  1. Struggle is the Nature of Things certainly.
    But to lash out without perception, in all directions, is not a virtue.
    Discernment is the rifle’s scope. the bullet serves as antidote.

  2. Consider
    human mind
    the essence of
    universal mind
    -negative force
    binds we prodigal souls
    to physicality
    the journey of we souls
    is described in
    we are immortal spiritual beings
    having a transitory human experience
    in a holographic creation

    1. SPIRITUS, the French Jesuit Priest Teilhard de Chardin once noted we are spiritual beings having a human experience.
      Between physical and spiritual I do not see contradiction.
      Both being one and the same.
      Two sides of one coin, so to speak,, just different expressions of the Divine.

      1. S.W.

        I would say that we are differing expressions of the Divine INTENT except for that whole de-composition thing, which is another “matter” altogether. Pardon the pun (:>)

      2. When we ascribe ALL experience of life and death to be under the auspices of Divine Creation, it amounts to being the ultimate rationalization.

        We say, “this is how it is, therefore this is how it’s supposed to be.”

        But this train of thought fails to understand that the “coin” is a TRICK coin used in the black magic act of the Demiurge – the false aegis of control; Creation’s trickster nemesis, rider on the pale horse.

  3. Love Dove

    In the quiet misty morning
    moon has gone to bed
    sky is clear touched red

    cold is past its prime
    winters ceased its gleaming
    adventure’s lost its meaning

    soul is soaring
    sound is roaring
    homeward path is flashing

    in the quiet misty morning
    the moon has gone to bed
    journeys at its end
    love dove is home once again.

    1. What an incredibly exquisite poem, capturing the essence of life’s imminent approach to death. This does to my psyche what poems are meant to do – touch deeply.

      My turn:

      The Men That Don’t Fit In

      There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
      A race that can’t stay still;
      So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
      And they roam the world at will.
      They range the field and they rove the flood,
      And they climb the mountain’s crest;
      Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
      And they don’t know how to rest.

      If they just went straight they might go far;
      They are strong and brave and true;
      But they’re always tired of the things that are,
      And they want the strange and new.
      They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
      What a deep mark I would make!”
      So they chop and change, and each fresh move
      Is only a fresh mistake.

      And each forgets, as he strips and runs
      With a brilliant, fitful pace,
      It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
      Who win in the lifelong race.
      And each forgets that his youth has fled,
      Forgets that his prime is past,
      Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
      In the glare of the truth at last.

      He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
      He has just done things by half.
      Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
      And now is the time to laugh.
      Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
      He was never meant to win;
      He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
      He’s a man who won’t fit in.

      – Robert Service

  4. Very powerful poem by Lasha! I only wish she would write poetry as much as she used to, but I also remember that before 4 or 5 years ago she wasn’t so heavily engaged as a cultural warrior, for which so many of us are so very grateful.

    I wrote a little poem about fish and the sea a while back with a religious/Marian theme. The sea, along with the moon, have long been considered symbolic of the Blessed Virgin
    Mary and her important and intimate role in salvation history. (There might be a mistake or 2 in the Latin, since mine is pretty rusty. I’m sure Lasha could do a lot better with her extensive classical studies.)

    Victrix delectatio Maria:
    Hac Matrique victoria regina.
    Suave solem vide in hac Mare;
    Pisci parvi hic volunt natare.
    Noctis Lux manet obscuritate,
    Reflecta nobis Lunae claritate.

    Mary is our conquering delight!
    To have this Queen and Mother in the fight
    Means victory! Just look into this Sea –
    Which softens the intense light of the Sun –
    Where humble, loving fish live joyfully.

    Lo – even in the dark of night remains
    The Light upon a Lunar Glass unstained!

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