Ivesus is the original model of the Breton Saint Yves. In a distant antiquity, at a time well before Saint Yves, Ivesus / Yves Esus was the patron saint of pagan miracles. Ivesus is the previous Christ who protects our Romanesque churches with his sacred tree, the yew tree,“if” in French as in Yvignac-la-Tour, an old medieval and masonic church, where the watchtower hides a venerable yew that welcomes you into its heart.
White Brittany of ancient mysteries, druids and legends, dark Brittany of leprechauns and korrigans, Margot and Morrigan fairies, black Brittany of spells where Yann An Aod — Ian of the Shore — and the wolves of the Monts d’Arrhée make funeral procession to the transient traveller. Such is the bewitching setting that saw Ivesus born in times unknown to memory.
Yet many places in Brittany still bear his sacred name. Best-known are in the Côtes d’Armor : Yvignac, Yffignac, Yffendic, Pontivy — both yew and ivy celebrate the cult of Yves the Elder, Ivesus the Forgotten.
Attention, when I say that this Yves is well before Christianity, I do not confuse the copy and the model. The copy is the official Saint Yves, whose Wikipediachampion of ready-to-think tells us this:
Yves Hélory de Kermartin, aka Yves de Tréguier aka Erwan Helouri in Breton aka Saint Yves in the Catholic tradition, is a priest from the diocese of Tréguier, probably born around 1253 in the manor of Kermartin in Minihy, in the Duchy of Brittany, and died on May 19, 1303 in the same place.
Considered by the Catholic Church as having dedicated his life to justice and to the poor, he was canonized on May 19, 1347 by Pope Clement VI. Saint Yves is the patron saint of all professions of justice and law, especially that of lawyer. He is also patron saint of Brittany and is the object of a great pardon on the occasion of the feast of Saint-Yves every year in Tréguier. It is celebrated on May 19. (source)
Brittany of mysteries, I said? Being Breton all right, nevertheless this mystery is fake. Duplicates are common among former gods, Greek heroes and biblical patriarchs. They were models that are still revered by giving their names to newborns. Among the southerners who call themselves César,Caesar none is Roman general. In Latin America, Jesus is a very common name. Will any archaeologist of the future confuse one of these beautiful Jesus with that of the Gospels? This very Jesus might not be a son of God, but at least he will have existed.
He is called Esus. Or Ive. Like Ivanhoe/ Iv(y) Ahn-Oe. Ivesus is Mithras for the East, the Mediterranean coast of these distant lands where the presence of the ancient Celts is still tangible. Ivesus has left songs. Antiphons. Canticles. Psalms. Prayers without rhyme or reason. Some of them mysteriously surfaced from the limbs of the universal mind. Here they are.
Mighty sun, always victorious you who make our children grow on your five continents
Our Father in heaven, in your paradise guarded by your heavenly armies
Oh very powerful Unbeaten Sun
Blessed and a thousand times sung by your humble disciple,
I Ivesus d’Iffendic.
Sun of love you have raised me to your shining horizon
You brought me into your light
On your green meadows I walked
In your sumptuous orchards I tasted the golden apples
Locust beans, bearded figs, grenades and persimmons.
Radiant sun you lull us with your rays that beautify everything
As the honey raccoons delight the bees
Your golden rays warm our hearts and force our harvests
Victorious sun, heart sun, may your virtues be sung by a choir of a hundred thousand virgins
And so many boys before the moult, with the voices of angels, with wonderful treble.
I keep hearing them all the time
Quat’ sous4-pence make a dime
Could a finest melody be heard when sung by such sublime voices
Whose juvenile sound entered my heart and remains forever.
Ivesus
Now time has come to mourn the mourning of the good days
Autumn after so many winters here comes the circular time
All things planned are accomplished
And so many others too
Only I remain without a soul, without a friend
My grey head and I till the time of year
To the port
Chorus of the Fates
Heavy to those who fear only him
Hard on no one to help
Destiny our three people
Ivesus
Behold, I love and am loved. Cast away anger and fear
The power and the circled cross protect our world
And Alcor’s and the fate of our dead
Come the sweet forgiveness of the tortured
Of the forgotten insult of the torment inflicted
Disfiguring my heart with a seal of unworthiness
Chorus of the Fates
Heavy to those who fear only him
Hard on no one to help
Destiny our three people
Ivesus
This is the end of the tale.
Wolves roam around the houses
The hollow paths are full of mist
Liha of the Moon and Song
Through the door of the Dead returned to Terra
Enchant the children of the Sun
Naked as on the day of their birth
To be reborn like her.
Chorus of the Fates
Heavy to those who fear only him
Hard on no one to help
Destiny our three people
Become your father, become your mother
Become your son and daughter
Be your family
Become your own clan
From the old you mourn
The new one is about to be born
The new master in you at home
You obey
Human Council of the Moon Sons
Do not expect of me any grace
You’ll pay up to a penny
Any violation, offence or crime
Committed knowing the cause
In the land of People and Things
Dad, you’re so old and wrinkly
To love the gods too much you are no less human
Oh on the bank have I wandered so long
Than can hear the song
Of the wave driven by its current
Of life trained by its lovers
Of the path we take
Frost and wind seasons
Deep years
Those moments that often
Awake in my growling heart
Memories from before
Total death before the end of the worlds
Before it’s too late
When all could last
A year, a century stretched by
The energy of despair
The hard golden desire
To endure
To the edge
Of a new day
May it then last forever
Residence permit
For the day of help
As a last resort
The day you got back.
The night damns us
Lost our souls
At the curtain-raiser of the drama
We were five companions of misery
Motherless children
On the way to the cemetery
Where we had litter
That’s where the loners slept
The five orphans the five brothers
Companions in solidarity
In a post-war setting
The city is down.
The mud in the river
Blood in the dust
On the Chemin des Dames
Mass grave that clamors
The killings of yesterday
Cowardly or proud
Death takes you the same
When you wake up.
I camber myself on my kidneys
To spur my courage
And mobilize resources
Of my vital energy.
I take my flight arched
On my growing bronze kidneys
The whole building up.
Up I fly and fly
The country that saw me born
The shore I grew up on.
My past through the window
Of a heavy spell
Renew and steal from me
A gift you can give
A future I’ve been told about.
I sit on my legs
While my kidneys are arched
And that a new vigor
To warm up my zeal
To your model home
Anne ancient and strong queen
Back to us
The daughter and sister
Mary with a big heart
The light grey eye, the proud gaze
Of the heroic warrior
Marianne their heiress
Carry in this big heart
The sweetness of the great queen
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