I am Maxine Culpa. Along with my late daughter Mia, I first became aquainted with Saint Sybian through our husband, Composer Felix Sebastian Culpa. He was born and raised in Calabria, Italia, near the site of the ancient Greek settlement of Sybaris, in the last century. When he was thirteen, Sybian began to appear to him, initiating him into her spiritual and sensual world. Felix, who was forced to disappear after unfortunate and definitely unsaintlike events , told us of Sybian's devotion to the pleasures of the father's creation: food, drink, the arts (particularly music and dance) all nature ---especially the body!! With the help of American Musicologist Patrick Lockwood, I have written these entries. Now, He also has been taken from us. Our new Scribe is Daniel Pierce, and our new Goddesss is Esperanza, whom Sybian herself has ordained. I hope that all who view this site will be encouraged to let their minds and senses wander to discover the voluptuous gifts the father freely gives us. Newcomers are urged to go to the earliest postings.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

"The Grotto of St. Sybian"


The earliest composition we have, this was written when Felix was a still a teenager and very much aglow from his encounters with Sybian. It is written in English, already showing Maxine’s influence, since she spoke the language fluently. Felix made up the tune and the words first, then added the accompaniment. Originally there was a part for accordion, but that was replaced by piano.
"The Grotto of St.Sybian....


It’s the knock on the door when there’s nobody there,
And the kindness of strangers with nothing to share,
To the night full of darkness and wind,
You are neither a stranger nor friend.

It’s a tap on the window when all is shut tight,
And nobody can reach you, but somebody might.
To a night without stranger or friend,
You are nothing but darkness and wind.

And an ill wind is blowing through Eden tonight,
And a strange moon is casting its ominous light,
And the mourning dove sings as she sleeps,
And the falcon a vigil he keeps.

And a lady in white walks the path to the sea;
And a figure in black guards the way faithfully.
In a grotto your fate is assured,
But the sentinel hears not a word.

And a young girl is dancing where no one can see
Around fires that were set so mysteriously.
And she’s wearing your heart on her sleeve
Dancing on and on without reprieve,
On the grave of the things you believe.


And she motions the falcon who screams out the way.
And you’re drawn to the sea like a dog to its prey.
And the lady in white spreads her cloak.
To the night you are madness and smoke.

And it’s all for the love that was lost long ago,
And for reasons and rhymes no one ever will know,
And the wars that are fought for your soul.








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1 comment:

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