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 Page: Profile: Poetry   Total Views: 10,933,029  

Poem Specs

VxPoem ID: 37138

Category:
devotional

Posted: October 19th. 2009 3:38:59 PM

Views: 762

The Birth Rite...

by Ed Novem Grey

Age Group: Adult



I walked in the rain today, under the arching redwoods and the high canopies of the ancient oaks. Pause for a second and listen, whispers, whispers of Yourself calling to you from your footsteps, vast upon the land, vast across time. You are the amazing generation of yourself, through all time, all trials and all tribulations that have been put by grace in your way, to teach you. Only you can do the Work.

I gathered a rose, biting it off with my teeth, feral in the puddled hedge. Humming and clasping it to my heart, I walked through those redwoods, those guardians of the arbor, and I sang a song, heartspun to Her. Such radiance, a bit of glistened solar fire, transformed by Love, transformed into Craft. In deep supplication, I crossed onto the bridge and let it fall to the river below, spiraling and floating off in the current.

My Path is Feri. My core, all that my life revolves around, is Feri. I am of the ancient Path, of the ones who sang songs in the deserts to Damascus roses and who brewed gentle Baby Woodrose, dancing joyfully around bonfires on the shores of the windswept waves. Chumbley, a dear brother in the Craft, says in the preface to the Azoetia: “The Quintessence of Magick is not to be found by the combination of externals, but solely by the direct realisation of its innate source. It is not to be discovered by combining system with system, belief with belief, or practice with practice; it is not found by uniting the 'elements' in their temporally manifest forms.” I have found this to be true, tools come and go, forms change through time, the lessons are still your own. It is in the Work of Self.

Later I came to another bridge, singing a little ditty to the Devil. There, I did toss the silver in; He had been watching in the eyes of the redwoods for my next move. Open the Way, Open me to Myself. Let me remember, let me remember the blessings that rain about me, let me remember the Work I have already accomplished, whether this life or other, let me never forget this Love. Jesus, one of my favorite magicians and Sufis, said “I bring not Peace, but a Sword”. How true, how apt, there are Those we can call who are dancers with blades, those who can help bring the burning blade to witness against these Follies of self. It takes courage to do so; you will likely reap the whirlwind of your wishes. Be honest to yourself about these desires, are they pointers to deep understanding, or are they whims for the moment, an attempt to fill yourself up outside of your Work? Everything you have right now, in Her eyes, is what you have won. Feast and be merry, drink of strange ales and bitter potions, then remember the hard ride tomorrow…it will be dawn soon.

So They come, They speak, They teach. If you doubt, feel free to trace that back, to understand that particular fear. Be focused! Remember the tale of Gwydion and Cerridwen, learn to change form, learn to adapt, dance even in the face of destruction. Become Reborn and Wise in the Cauldron of Her Womb. They do expect you to keep up your side of the Pact, for you to seek out and overcome your own obstacles. This pleases Them, like parents watching a child take her first steps, guiding, and praising, and wondering ever at our efforts. They will help where They can, but it is you, who at the end of days, stands at the Crossroads. It is you who grasps for the stars in their brilliance and who climbs the highest peaks. It is you who enters into the Gorgon’s den and tests yourself continuously. It is You who is loved.

I can only speak from where I am now, where my Truth lives. This Truth will change, I will change, for We are change; Feri screams out change into the vast wilderness of self. Come live out in the desert for forty years, wander and see the sights. Eat of this apple, this fig, feel the Sap of Knowledge course through your veins. Lose yourself not into oblivion, as A. O. Spare would rail, “The Inferno of the Normal.” We are not very different, you and I. A Path won, a song sung, let us blow kisses to the seven winds to each other, let us see the divinity within the Other, let us inspire Change. This Change of Centuries that will never stop flowing, these swift waters under the Bridge.

I blow a kiss to you, beautiful and timeless Lover in the Elder Dark.




Author's Notes: Composed today, in the Hour of the Sun, on the Day of the Moon


Author's Location: Davis, California
More Poems: Ed Novem Grey has posted 18 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Ed Novem Grey - Click HERE
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