The Syzygy

A braided river runs through the secret garden of my mind.
Whose hand dost paint this river?
It’s banks, by which The Aeons come and go, are muddy and fertile.
This is the Art of Black Soil,
Black Earth.

From a pinpoint drop of her blood
(blood of water, blood of wine)
A wellspring flows unbridled.
Arcane knowledge explodes in all directions.

Arcanum – tomb of secret knowledge,
Whose whispering images speak paintings,
Stroke by stroke,
Upon my mind.

Here you will find Archangel Raphael and Azazel
(The Watcher who, bound hand and foot, was cast into darkness forever);
Mercury , son of Maia and Jupiter, reconciler of all opposites;
The Word Dreamer, Surrogate-Nurse of all things Material;
The Poet Ennoea, lost in reverie.

Ennoea beget Nous;
A Cosmic pair – Lovers, Siblings, Mother, Father.
The Syzygy (Ultimate Androgyne),
At once an infinitesimal dot and omnidirectional, infinitely vast plane
(through which my braided river runs)
Is both Source and Destiny.

Alas, this Divine Zygote has cut itself into pieces;
Nous – flawed, sick and insane,
Bit and clawed at the underbelly of her beloved twin.
Spit out like the poison from a wound,
She fell to Earth, to Black Soil;
The Logos – The Word,
The Immaterial Manifest.