Is it really you?
Rarest of the rare
My guide to the upper world.
A sleek, black lacemaker
In a sepia tracery of snow.
You came from nowhere,
From myth into miasm,
Prancing upon the horizontal
As I made my brave, intuitive, ascent,
Impelled insatiably by the vertical.
O virginal forest phantasm,
Your viridian eye pools
Momentarily lowered, coyly,
Bleed God's beauty
Into the foment.
In another incarnation,
I stood upon the Devil's Bridge
And straddled the chasm
Separating me from Life.
Tall pines like sentinels,
The rocky walls an aorta,
A dizzying gorge wherein a spear
Plunged into the body of the Earth
Upon the cross, many lifetimes below.
And from that crashing wound
Jade sap flowed into eternity
From the Tree of Life.
Tranquil once more, the deed was done,
Humanity silently transfigured.
I know what they say about you…
That you are a dark omen;
A black portent; a thief in the night;
But no… you came to redeem my song
And carry her safely to Sophia.
The higher the world, the darker the light, mercifully.
I take this path in order to meet Jesus in my soul,
So know that I am ready now.
Up here In the vibrating luminosity
Of ancient consciousness,
Virgin snow has lain heavy, weary with labour.
You can still see the imprint of her pregnant form
Upon the heavenly meadow.
Was there a mighty conference? Did Lucifer wear white
And flash his calling card to all and sundry?
My shepherd would have worn black for such an occasion
And have played upon the lyre
Before quietly slipping away.
And we would have gone with Him,
The few of us who remember.
We are an endangered species,
Shape-shifting into the metaphysical
From our portal in the garden of the Gods.
How fabulous then to see you now!
The Archangel Michael orchestrated this moment
You kept your promise,
And I thank you for that.
So here, sweet black night, is my song,
And my earthly karma.
Let us exchange gifts.