.
I witness to Perfection,
Even as I see the flowing blood of innocence,
And hear the cries of hatred, vengeance and despair.
I witness to Perfection,
Knowing man’s inhumanity to man continues
As the brutish works of ignorance and pride
And blind belief explode across the world.
I witness to Perfection
In the mercy of the plan that gives us Time
To find our way
Back from the brink of the abyss.
I witness to Perfection
That is greater far than mortal eyes can see.
Here is a call to arms and order,
Warring with division in the soul of Man.
Here is a call to prayer and service
Bearing light into the darkness
Of tortured souls, and harmony
To the chaotic realm of earth.
I witness to Perfection
In the Mind of the Most High.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Without Beginning, Without End
.
The Source extends,
Without beginning, without end;
In curvature
Of going out and coming in.
Spirit flows through mind to matter
And returns again,
Yet all is held within the whole.
The Word I Am goes forth
And That I Am returns
In perfect moment of the Now.
The Parent and the Child are one.
The great Communion Feast is laid
Before the world is made.
Within the vastness of the silent dark
Before the stars are lit,
Before the first primordial spark leaps
From the mind of Cause
And lights the hall of Time and Space
With chandeliers of galaxies
In glorious effect,
Before the earth is formed, before the stone,
Before the birth of flesh and bone,
Before there is the living chalice
Of a heart to beat within the beast,
Or human brain
To frame thoughts of what is,
And what has been, and what yet is to be
The sacred union of the King and Priest
Is set within Eternity.
The Source extends,
Without beginning, without end;
In curvature
Of going out and coming in.
Spirit flows through mind to matter
And returns again,
Yet all is held within the whole.
The Word I Am goes forth
And That I Am returns
In perfect moment of the Now.
The Parent and the Child are one.
The great Communion Feast is laid
Before the world is made.
Within the vastness of the silent dark
Before the stars are lit,
Before the first primordial spark leaps
From the mind of Cause
And lights the hall of Time and Space
With chandeliers of galaxies
In glorious effect,
Before the earth is formed, before the stone,
Before the birth of flesh and bone,
Before there is the living chalice
Of a heart to beat within the beast,
Or human brain
To frame thoughts of what is,
And what has been, and what yet is to be
The sacred union of the King and Priest
Is set within Eternity.
It Is a Strange World This
.
It is a strange world, this, in which we live --
No evil comes that has not good within the tangled skein,
Nor good arise that cannot be abused, no truth that cannot twisted lie.
Within each thing there lives the seed that breeds its opposition.
Yet is this evidence of great titanic struggle twixt the good and ill?
Does the Good God, the bright, the light,
Who serves our needs and our desires with blessings of felicity,
Ever in conflict rage with a dark twin?
Are we, poor human souls, but flotsam caught
Within a cosmic storm, tossed in the tumult of the waves of force,
As Heaven wars with Hell?
Or are we but children, learning as we grow
Into our destined stature?
Restive early, as we test our powers and our awareness,
Stretch our sense of self, and self-importance,
Judging good and ill by our own tastes, we crow in triumph
Or bewail in loss, and curse the fate that costs us pain.
We strive to hold, control and mold all others to our ways,
For thus we find a sure reflection of our own superiority.
We damn that which we fear,
And fear that which we do not understand,
And hold most close and dear the mirror of ourselves.
Yet this is childhood’s folly, and outgrown
When we have gained maturity, and entered wisdom’s halls.
This university of space and time in vast array instructs us
By diversity and contrast, thesis and antithesis.
Polarity is partner to solution’s synthesis.
See, here the many – of one primal substance made,
Yet set upon their multitudinous ways in waves, and particles
And other forms beyond the ken of mortal man --
All dance within the mind of the divine.
And, uttered in the endless circle of eternity,
Word of Perfection holds all in embrace, at first, at last –
And in between, we play and learn, and thus discern
That even dissonance may play its part within this symphony.
Within the compass of perfection’s harmony
Our greatest loss may prove our greatest gain,
Our greatest joy be born of greatest pain.
It is a strange world, this, in which we live --
No evil comes that has not good within the tangled skein,
Nor good arise that cannot be abused, no truth that cannot twisted lie.
Within each thing there lives the seed that breeds its opposition.
Yet is this evidence of great titanic struggle twixt the good and ill?
Does the Good God, the bright, the light,
Who serves our needs and our desires with blessings of felicity,
Ever in conflict rage with a dark twin?
Are we, poor human souls, but flotsam caught
Within a cosmic storm, tossed in the tumult of the waves of force,
As Heaven wars with Hell?
Or are we but children, learning as we grow
Into our destined stature?
Restive early, as we test our powers and our awareness,
Stretch our sense of self, and self-importance,
Judging good and ill by our own tastes, we crow in triumph
Or bewail in loss, and curse the fate that costs us pain.
We strive to hold, control and mold all others to our ways,
For thus we find a sure reflection of our own superiority.
We damn that which we fear,
And fear that which we do not understand,
And hold most close and dear the mirror of ourselves.
Yet this is childhood’s folly, and outgrown
When we have gained maturity, and entered wisdom’s halls.
This university of space and time in vast array instructs us
By diversity and contrast, thesis and antithesis.
Polarity is partner to solution’s synthesis.
See, here the many – of one primal substance made,
Yet set upon their multitudinous ways in waves, and particles
And other forms beyond the ken of mortal man --
All dance within the mind of the divine.
And, uttered in the endless circle of eternity,
Word of Perfection holds all in embrace, at first, at last –
And in between, we play and learn, and thus discern
That even dissonance may play its part within this symphony.
Within the compass of perfection’s harmony
Our greatest loss may prove our greatest gain,
Our greatest joy be born of greatest pain.
I Am Beyond
.
I Am beyond the bright and dim, beyond that which is light or dark.
I Am beyond the primal point, beyond initiating spark;
I Am beyond the ebon maw that feeds upon the stars in space.
I Am in them, and they in me; I Am in each and every place
The subtle essence of Creative One
Encompassing the Whole.
I Am beyond the primal point, beyond initiating spark;
I Am beyond the ebon maw that feeds upon the stars in space.
I Am in them, and they in me; I Am in each and every place
The subtle essence of Creative One
Encompassing the Whole.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Unto OneSelf the Word is Wed
.
By the speaking of the Word
The Mother-Father-One
Realize the Son.
By the extension of the Light
Throughout the Void is spread
The life and substance, wine and bread,
Spirit and embodiment,
Son and Daughter, one,
In emanation of the Divine.
No fallen goddess, she --
No tainted Sophia to be redeemed --
This is the ordained mate
Made of the selfsame substance
Of the One,
Coadjutant, eternal partner
Of the Word as Son.
The world of matter made
Aware of Self in true reflection
Of the Supernal Source of Light,
As conjugation of the Word,
Within a flash
The bridegroom goeth forth
To meet the Bride,
Be One with Her
Within the Upper Room
And bring Her home.
By the speaking of the Word
The Mother-Father-One
Realize the Son.
By the extension of the Light
Throughout the Void is spread
The life and substance, wine and bread,
Spirit and embodiment,
Son and Daughter, one,
In emanation of the Divine.
No fallen goddess, she --
No tainted Sophia to be redeemed --
This is the ordained mate
Made of the selfsame substance
Of the One,
Coadjutant, eternal partner
Of the Word as Son.
The world of matter made
Aware of Self in true reflection
Of the Supernal Source of Light,
As conjugation of the Word,
Within a flash
The bridegroom goeth forth
To meet the Bride,
Be One with Her
Within the Upper Room
And bring Her home.
Song of the Herm
In ancient Greece, the herm was a column, sacred to Hermes, used as a boundary marker. Herms were placed as mileposts, at street corners, and at the entrance to homes and other buildings, where they were considered to have a magical and protective function, serving as sites of ritual and worship. The column featured only two representational carved elements: a head, and (not surprisingly, for the Greeks) an erect phallus. It was believed to be good fortune to stroke the herm in passing.
.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
Song of the Herm
Touch me; I am alive
With the rising sap of springtime, the warmth of newborns
Nuzzling at the great maternal teat,
The bounding glee of gawky youth – in mad march hares,
Leaping through time in ageless vernal rites
That need no priest or ritual overlord
To mediate the immediacy of the Divine.
I am alive -- as the land again awakens to the heat,
Animal spirits break free, and the Imperative throbs
Like lava in the veins of earth.
Horned and hard-headed beasts collide in mythic conflict
And hot blood seeming sacred in its sacrifice
Flows dark into the soil to feed new growth.
I am alive -- speaking in the voices of the frogs, sounding in the bellow
Of the beast in rut, calling from treetop and mountainside,
Or whispering enchantment in the hum of bees that weave
Upon a field of springtime blossom. Nature contrives
To advertise the powers of generation and rebirth.
I am alive, always;
At the door between the year’s cold darkness and the vernal dawn
Youth and desire reside, and an expression of the primal.
Buds swell to bursting, or unfold tender, leafy tongues
Proclaiming their vigor. Flowery organs scatter germs of life
And drip with nectar, and the air is thick with the dance of tiny wings.
I am alive -- even within the stone, standing
Sun-warmed, wind-kissed,
Waiting for the traveler’s touch.
Touch me, and blessed be.
With the rising sap of springtime, the warmth of newborns
Nuzzling at the great maternal teat,
The bounding glee of gawky youth – in mad march hares,
Leaping through time in ageless vernal rites
That need no priest or ritual overlord
To mediate the immediacy of the Divine.
I am alive -- as the land again awakens to the heat,
Animal spirits break free, and the Imperative throbs
Like lava in the veins of earth.
Horned and hard-headed beasts collide in mythic conflict
And hot blood seeming sacred in its sacrifice
Flows dark into the soil to feed new growth.
I am alive -- speaking in the voices of the frogs, sounding in the bellow
Of the beast in rut, calling from treetop and mountainside,
Or whispering enchantment in the hum of bees that weave
Upon a field of springtime blossom. Nature contrives
To advertise the powers of generation and rebirth.
I am alive, always;
At the door between the year’s cold darkness and the vernal dawn
Youth and desire reside, and an expression of the primal.
Buds swell to bursting, or unfold tender, leafy tongues
Proclaiming their vigor. Flowery organs scatter germs of life
And drip with nectar, and the air is thick with the dance of tiny wings.
I am alive -- even within the stone, standing
Sun-warmed, wind-kissed,
Waiting for the traveler’s touch.
Touch me, and blessed be.
Image of the Father
.
As glistening tear from single eye
Within it bears the life and light
Of being to be sown within the womb,
The seed of self is borne by breath,
Spoken into the dark void and given substance.
The Sire of all Creation needs no more than thought
To matter manifest within the Nothingness.
Fountain of fire and wall of water,
Winds that scour or caress,
Earth of many shapes and colors,
Stone and bone, and flesh and fur
And feather, leaf and frond and bole,
Appear at the behest of that great Architect.
Yet that designing Mind which creates,
Generates the vessels and engenders form,
Begets not truly till the spirit breath
Is breathed forth from the Being of the One
As Word, initiating Life.
Yet life alone is not the crown of this design.
The parent’s potency and image are instilled, encoded, hid -
Inherent in the consciousness of his most loved child,
The primate-ruler of the planetary sphere.
The heir awakes embodied in the mother’s flesh,
And rises with the light, and grows in Grace,
And comes to know the self aethereal, descended
From celestial paternity to then ascend again
Unto the Origin of All.
From primal dust, to primal animal,
To mortal human, thence to progeny divine –
The Son is born of Father’s fountainhead and germ,
Takes form, and in OneSelf reflected finds creative force,
And speaks the Word
In perfect likeness of the Source.
As glistening tear from single eyeWithin it bears the life and light
Of being to be sown within the womb,
The seed of self is borne by breath,
Spoken into the dark void and given substance.
The Sire of all Creation needs no more than thought
To matter manifest within the Nothingness.
Fountain of fire and wall of water,
Winds that scour or caress,
Earth of many shapes and colors,
Stone and bone, and flesh and fur
And feather, leaf and frond and bole,
Appear at the behest of that great Architect.
Yet that designing Mind which creates,
Generates the vessels and engenders form,
Begets not truly till the spirit breath
Is breathed forth from the Being of the One
As Word, initiating Life.
Yet life alone is not the crown of this design.
The parent’s potency and image are instilled, encoded, hid -
Inherent in the consciousness of his most loved child,
The primate-ruler of the planetary sphere.
The heir awakes embodied in the mother’s flesh,
And rises with the light, and grows in Grace,
And comes to know the self aethereal, descended
From celestial paternity to then ascend again
Unto the Origin of All.
From primal dust, to primal animal,
To mortal human, thence to progeny divine –
The Son is born of Father’s fountainhead and germ,
Takes form, and in OneSelf reflected finds creative force,
And speaks the Word
In perfect likeness of the Source.
The Earth Basks
The earth basks in the glory of the sun’s return
After a time of cold repose,
The dark Crone’s time --
A season of sleep, wrapped in white blankets,
Or silent standing with naked limbs,
Feigning death,
The sap of life withdrawn into the very root of self.
Now the golden touch warms and revivifies;
Calls forth that which has slumbered,
Makes new, makes well, makes whole,
Makes beauteous and full of grace,
Perfumes the breeze, and tints with joyous colors
The Maiden’s garb.
The Bride awaits the Bridegroom.
After a time of cold repose,
The dark Crone’s time --
A season of sleep, wrapped in white blankets,
Or silent standing with naked limbs,
Feigning death,
The sap of life withdrawn into the very root of self.
Now the golden touch warms and revivifies;
Calls forth that which has slumbered,
Makes new, makes well, makes whole,
Makes beauteous and full of grace,
Perfumes the breeze, and tints with joyous colors
The Maiden’s garb.
The Bride awaits the Bridegroom.
Change
In the play of matter, mind, and dream,
Of finite phantasmagoria,
The vision flickers, shifts
From birth to death,
Dances in between.
We seem to laugh, cry, preen, and pose and ponder,
Dreaming separate self.
In the drama of denial we seek to hold
The other,
Grasp what we desire,
Keep that which we love,
Knowing well the tragedy of change and ending
In the world of form.
We ride the dragon of impermanence.
Leviathan devours all,
And the sea of darkness closes in
Upon our little lights.
Yet there is that great Light
Which is forever radiant
Beaming being of Oneself.
What comedy is this
That wrests from us our knowledge
Of eternal nature
Singular and complete
And sends us on the errand of the Fool?
I am the dreamer and the dream,
I am the ground upon, within which all is laid,
I am the stage
And all the actors who upon it move
I am the play itself.
The pages turn, scenes limned in light and dark,
In joy and sorrow, life and death,
Scenes of awareness,
Memory, and unconsciousness
Moving each and every in their turn
As masks upon the One I Am.
And thus, I am
The ever-constant Change.
Of finite phantasmagoria,
The vision flickers, shifts
From birth to death,
Dances in between.
We seem to laugh, cry, preen, and pose and ponder,
Dreaming separate self.
In the drama of denial we seek to hold
The other,
Grasp what we desire,
Keep that which we love,
Knowing well the tragedy of change and ending
In the world of form.
We ride the dragon of impermanence.
Leviathan devours all,
And the sea of darkness closes in
Upon our little lights.
Yet there is that great Light
Which is forever radiant
Beaming being of Oneself.
What comedy is this
That wrests from us our knowledge
Of eternal nature
Singular and complete
And sends us on the errand of the Fool?
I am the dreamer and the dream,
I am the ground upon, within which all is laid,
I am the stage
And all the actors who upon it move
I am the play itself.
The pages turn, scenes limned in light and dark,
In joy and sorrow, life and death,
Scenes of awareness,
Memory, and unconsciousness
Moving each and every in their turn
As masks upon the One I Am.
And thus, I am
The ever-constant Change.
Poem for May Day
(Reflection upon the Cosmic Hieros Gamos)
I.
Spirit swells within the heart of All
In Love full-filled to bursting bliss.
Buds extrude from their encasements,
Blooms extend, unfold within the light
In hues designed in paradise.
In paradise the two are one,
And all are one --
The bud, the blossom,
The blowsy, drooping bloom that has achieved
The perfect moment
And moves on,
And, yes, the bare bough, scarce remembering
Florid effulgence of the spring.
All time, all meaning, all the cosmos,
Rapt, embraced within the Being of the One -
Flame from the heart of every atom leaps
In glad response.
Cauldron, womb, dark vessel of origin,
Receives the spark and gives return
In radiant joy.
From the communion of the One with all,
Come the many,
Revivified.
II.
And shall we go a-maying, and breathe the dawn
Infused with blossoms’ scent,
Heavy, moist in dewy morning?
Shall we bring home petals creamy, soft,
Fragrant as the skin of the young May Queen,
She who is poised in that poignant moment
Between dawn and day.
Shall we see the sacred dance done,
And celebrate the holy coupling?
Shall we stoke the fires,
And circle in the light?
III.
There is eternal May in me,
The snows of winter crown me
Yet I am She who dances in the dawning
And gives virgin birth to the Holy Child.
As the wheel of the year turns,
As the hours of day make their rounds,
I move
From maid to matron and to crone
Yet I am One.
At brimming morning, blazing noon,
And at the dark end of the cycle
I dance within the circle of Cosmos
Yet within me, All is held.
IV.
I am the Consort of the Queen
No less than She
I hold the scepter of enthroned Divinity.
I thrust and burst and cry with singular eye
The word of my Being
Enfolded and embraced by Her.
And we are One.
I.
Spirit swells within the heart of All
In Love full-filled to bursting bliss.
Buds extrude from their encasements,
Blooms extend, unfold within the light
In hues designed in paradise.
In paradise the two are one,
And all are one --
The bud, the blossom,
The blowsy, drooping bloom that has achieved
The perfect moment
And moves on,
And, yes, the bare bough, scarce remembering
Florid effulgence of the spring.
All time, all meaning, all the cosmos,
Rapt, embraced within the Being of the One -
Flame from the heart of every atom leaps
In glad response.
Cauldron, womb, dark vessel of origin,
Receives the spark and gives return
In radiant joy.
From the communion of the One with all,
Come the many,
Revivified.
II.
And shall we go a-maying, and breathe the dawn
Infused with blossoms’ scent,
Heavy, moist in dewy morning?
Shall we bring home petals creamy, soft,
Fragrant as the skin of the young May Queen,
She who is poised in that poignant moment
Between dawn and day.
Shall we see the sacred dance done,
And celebrate the holy coupling?
Shall we stoke the fires,
And circle in the light?
III.
There is eternal May in me,
The snows of winter crown me
Yet I am She who dances in the dawning
And gives virgin birth to the Holy Child.
As the wheel of the year turns,
As the hours of day make their rounds,
I move
From maid to matron and to crone
Yet I am One.
At brimming morning, blazing noon,
And at the dark end of the cycle
I dance within the circle of Cosmos
Yet within me, All is held.
IV.
I am the Consort of the Queen
No less than She
I hold the scepter of enthroned Divinity.
I thrust and burst and cry with singular eye
The word of my Being
Enfolded and embraced by Her.
And we are One.
Ordained
.
I AM the Word of Order
Born from the Source of all ordering,
The Point of Authority,
Borne by the breath of the Supernal
Speaking my nature.
I Am co-creator with the All-begetter.
I Am the matrix womb of all the worlds of matter,
I Am the Form of the Word.
And where there is form there is shadow.
Reflection and echo and self-awareness
Studied in practice of discrimination,
I am the magic of the darkness
Completing the wonder of the day,
With shades of meaning.
In this completion, joining with my Self,
I wed myself
To that which ever is
The name and nature of the Self
I AM
In service to the All in One
And One in All.
All is ordered by the Word,
And thus, ordained
To be in flow of going forth and then return
As Divinity breathes
The One I AM.
I AM the Word of Order
Born from the Source of all ordering,
The Point of Authority,
Borne by the breath of the Supernal
Speaking my nature.
I Am co-creator with the All-begetter.
I Am the matrix womb of all the worlds of matter,
I Am the Form of the Word.
And where there is form there is shadow.
Reflection and echo and self-awareness
Studied in practice of discrimination,
I am the magic of the darkness
Completing the wonder of the day,
With shades of meaning.
In this completion, joining with my Self,
I wed myself
To that which ever is
The name and nature of the Self
I AM
In service to the All in One
And One in All.
All is ordered by the Word,
And thus, ordained
To be in flow of going forth and then return
As Divinity breathes
The One I AM.
Sacred
.
I.
The Sacred is before you
And you reach for the remote -
Moving from the immediate and true
To the fantasy you wish were,
Or the fear that titillates.
No wonder your world rocks
With bomb blasts,
And deep, internal rumblings.
No wonder you seek for salvation
In every novelty
And toss away the wisdom of the ages.
Given opportunity
You while away the time in talk of this and that.
Wars and idols, politics and entertainment
Fill you up
And leave you empty.
And all the while,
The Sacred waits.
If not now –
Then
When the breath stops
And the light within the eyes goes out
Then
You will face the Sacred
Scared.
II.
In the moment of the Now,
Here is the bliss of the Eternal,
The everbrimming cup of joy
That is the great adventure undertaken
As Sacred.
Every moment is the Now,
Every movement is the dance with the Beloved.
Sacred is the whole,
And sacred every part
Within the sacred heart of Living Deity.
Death and Life are one
Endless moment
Dancing the dance of the Divine.
I.
The Sacred is before you
And you reach for the remote -
Moving from the immediate and true
To the fantasy you wish were,
Or the fear that titillates.
No wonder your world rocks
With bomb blasts,
And deep, internal rumblings.
No wonder you seek for salvation
In every novelty
And toss away the wisdom of the ages.
Given opportunity
You while away the time in talk of this and that.
Wars and idols, politics and entertainment
Fill you up
And leave you empty.
And all the while,
The Sacred waits.
If not now –
Then
When the breath stops
And the light within the eyes goes out
Then
You will face the Sacred
Scared.
II.
In the moment of the Now,
Here is the bliss of the Eternal,
The everbrimming cup of joy
That is the great adventure undertaken
As Sacred.
Every moment is the Now,
Every movement is the dance with the Beloved.
Sacred is the whole,
And sacred every part
Within the sacred heart of Living Deity.
Death and Life are one
Endless moment
Dancing the dance of the Divine.
In Us One Goddess
.
Sister-self
Daughter-self
Self-same Being
In us
One Goddess
Looks out through my eyes and sees you
And joys in the youth and beauty of you
And knows the potency
The poignancy
The pleasure of being you
And sees one self in us both.
Knowing Woman,
Unfolding in wisdom with each petal
That ripens in the heart of the Divine One,
Is living Goddess in us -
Forgetting and remembering,
Dancing in dim dream and in the light,
Daughter, Mother, Sister, Lover
Yet ever the same.
Her song sings within us -
I am many, we are One.
Daughter-self
Self-same Being
In us
One Goddess
Looks out through my eyes and sees you
And joys in the youth and beauty of you
And knows the potency
The poignancy
The pleasure of being you
And sees one self in us both.
Knowing Woman,
Unfolding in wisdom with each petal
That ripens in the heart of the Divine One,
Is living Goddess in us -
Forgetting and remembering,
Dancing in dim dream and in the light,
Daughter, Mother, Sister, Lover
Yet ever the same.
Her song sings within us -
I am many, we are One.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Mystery of Opposites
Being
A Question
having within itself
The Answer
A Question
having within itself
The Answer
____________________
Clear enough they stand,
Those two great pillars of Creation --
Black and White, Dark and Light
And She and He, and Thee and Me
And all that is
Otherness
Beside the One.
This is the Law
Within this corner of the Multiverse
Wherein the great tantric tango is done
In violence and romance,
Flesh and blood, and earth and stone
And the simple turning of gigantic wheels
As galaxies and lives are devoured,
Digested
By greater movements in the spinning of Eternity.
In what dimension can we find the wheel
From which all this is spun --
From whence all matter’s risen
And all spirit sprung?
And should we to that wedding chamber penetrate
And merge with that which is the Spinner
And the Spun
Would we not find a greater Being yet
To know.
(The sun behind the sun?)
Perfection unfolds in the process of Infinity,
A mobius majestic, folding in upon
One Self.
Those two great pillars of Creation --
Black and White, Dark and Light
And She and He, and Thee and Me
And all that is
Otherness
Beside the One.
This is the Law
Within this corner of the Multiverse
Wherein the great tantric tango is done
In violence and romance,
Flesh and blood, and earth and stone
And the simple turning of gigantic wheels
As galaxies and lives are devoured,
Digested
By greater movements in the spinning of Eternity.
In what dimension can we find the wheel
From which all this is spun --
From whence all matter’s risen
And all spirit sprung?
And should we to that wedding chamber penetrate
And merge with that which is the Spinner
And the Spun
Would we not find a greater Being yet
To know.
(The sun behind the sun?)
Perfection unfolds in the process of Infinity,
A mobius majestic, folding in upon
One Self.
I Dance with My Beloved
.
I dance with my beloved;
In the springtime of the desert land
We pace the path upon the stony ground
A labyrinth of light and shadow,
Twisting, turning, slowly moving
Now together, now apart,
Yet ever one in spirit.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
In the springtime of the desert land
We pace the path upon the stony ground
A labyrinth of light and shadow,
Twisting, turning, slowly moving
Now together, now apart,
Yet ever one in spirit.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
I am the mother and the daughter.
..... -- Thunder Perfect Mind
I am not one and not the other –
I am one,
Both and all.
I am she who encompasses,
She who has as many faces as there are faces
As many hearts as there are hearts,
As many stories as there are lives to live them,
And they are all one in me.
Entwined with the Beloved, I embrace the world,
Touching all things,
And in this making sacred all I touch.
What sin is here? What shame? What sorrow
That is not washed away
In the joy of our holy Union?
The Word incarnate,
Wisdom embodied,
Logos and Sophia join
In the eternal nature of the One I Am.
What Mystery
.
Wherefore the touted mystery
Whereby the bread and wine are seen
As made most magically into the blood and body of the Son?
Is this some rare and awesome thing?
A paragon?A miracle beyond the ken of human mind?
How did the gaunt and black-robed parasites beguile our kind
Into accepting them as sole recourse to Deity,
And by their hand alone, and of their hocus pocus
Hic est corpus only to receive the Lord into our souls?
When did we lose the sight of God to the extent that we forgot
Our unity with that which is our true integrity, and what
Could hold us thus so long apart from Truth?
There is no mystery to this! There is no body but the Lord,
Made manifold and myriad, in consciousness alone distinct,
Yet of one substance made into the breadth and depth of all
Creation's creatures, and the very rocks and stones as well;
All that is made is of that body formed.
All that has life lives by the very blood of that One's being;
Light it is, the gold-white ichor of the very God
Which animates the body of the man, the plant, the animal alike,
Where there is light, there flows the life of God, indeed.
Indeed, the grape is nourished by the sun, and bleeds its soul
To be a symbol of the blood of God. And bread serves well
As unifying principle that we may tell to children
How the Lord is in us, and we share His life.
But are we children? Are we babes to feed on pap
Fed by some artificer, telling only half the tale?
Wherefore this transubstantiation mystery?
As made most magically into the blood and body of the Son?
Is this some rare and awesome thing?
A paragon?A miracle beyond the ken of human mind?
How did the gaunt and black-robed parasites beguile our kind
Into accepting them as sole recourse to Deity,
And by their hand alone, and of their hocus pocus
Hic est corpus only to receive the Lord into our souls?
When did we lose the sight of God to the extent that we forgot
Our unity with that which is our true integrity, and what
Could hold us thus so long apart from Truth?
There is no mystery to this! There is no body but the Lord,
Made manifold and myriad, in consciousness alone distinct,
Yet of one substance made into the breadth and depth of all
Creation's creatures, and the very rocks and stones as well;
All that is made is of that body formed.
All that has life lives by the very blood of that One's being;
Light it is, the gold-white ichor of the very God
Which animates the body of the man, the plant, the animal alike,
Where there is light, there flows the life of God, indeed.
Indeed, the grape is nourished by the sun, and bleeds its soul
To be a symbol of the blood of God. And bread serves well
As unifying principle that we may tell to children
How the Lord is in us, and we share His life.
But are we children? Are we babes to feed on pap
Fed by some artificer, telling only half the tale?
Wherefore this transubstantiation mystery?
And is there mystery at all?
Or change, save in our consciousness,
Or change, save in our consciousness,
Which must abjure abasement and embrace
The true descent in place of fall.
If change there be, it is most simply this:
We change from craven supplicants to celebrants in holy bliss.
The substance of our lives is sanctified in offering
Our bodies and our living blood unto the One I Am,
Ingesting Truth; becoming That I Am, that is the sole salvation.
Thus digesting God, we are assimilated to Oneself Supreme.
Eternal priests of living flame in spirit unified,
We are transformed in mind, we are become the Bride.
In consciousness with God
If change there be, it is most simply this:
We change from craven supplicants to celebrants in holy bliss.
The substance of our lives is sanctified in offering
Our bodies and our living blood unto the One I Am,
Ingesting Truth; becoming That I Am, that is the sole salvation.
Thus digesting God, we are assimilated to Oneself Supreme.
Eternal priests of living flame in spirit unified,
We are transformed in mind, we are become the Bride.
In consciousness with God
And with the whole world wide and deep
We meet - and we are one - this is a simple and a sacred thing.
Know you, my brothers in the parentage of God,
That we are in no need of priestcraft which does raise itself
Above us, making us to cry for bread and blessing only it can give.
The Son lives in us, and the blood of God moves in our veins,
And the breath of God has breathed into us, giving us our voice
With which to sing the praise of One Most High --
Eternal, never dying, ever rising consciousness of Unity.
This is our own, our heritage.
From Mother God we take our form,
From Father God our life is given, and they are One,
Most High and Holy Mystery: One Being All That Is.
We meet - and we are one - this is a simple and a sacred thing.
Know you, my brothers in the parentage of God,
That we are in no need of priestcraft which does raise itself
Above us, making us to cry for bread and blessing only it can give.
The Son lives in us, and the blood of God moves in our veins,
And the breath of God has breathed into us, giving us our voice
With which to sing the praise of One Most High --
Eternal, never dying, ever rising consciousness of Unity.
This is our own, our heritage.
From Mother God we take our form,
From Father God our life is given, and they are One,
Most High and Holy Mystery: One Being All That Is.
The Child of God
I am the Child of God.
It is the Daughter-self of me
That doth reflect
The Parent's Will
In all Creation.
Receiving in my innocence
The imprint of the Source,
I am Nature - Earth -
Four seasons moving in procession,
Garbing me in changing robes.
I am the mother of the earthly man,
Great Isis and the Bride of Pan.
I am the form the mind of God has willed,
And I accept myself as what I am.
I am the Child of God.
I am the Child of God.
It is the One Eternal Son in me
That doth bespeak the parent's love
In all Humanity.
The word of spirit is my legacy,
And I am heir unto the parent's power.
I am the solar radiance - dynamic
Moving force within the form,
I am the true self of Immortal Man,
Eternal priest and King of Peace I Am.
I am the perfect union of the spirit and the flesh --
For I am man - yet I am God no less.
Like Mother is the daughter made
Like Mother is the daughter made
To procreate in form the seeds within her laid
By Will - and His creative act.
The Word is spoke into her waiting womb.
Like Father doth the Son display
The potency of Will to create form, and then -
Instill with life this newly made expression of Oneself.
Creation is the legacy which falls to me.
Creation is the legacy which falls to me.
I am the Child of God.
In the heart of me I am at One -
I receive as the earth
And I give as the sun -
And I am whole,
And I am One
With the Parent-Source of me --
Divinity - infinity of me -
I am Androgyny:
Creative One I Am!
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