Bring the work of our Art to a prosperous issue, In which the medium formed is the soul's silken tissue. Be it Thy will that our hearts be kept still, While our essence is processed by God's holy mill. Alchemy's art is only for divine recluse, For anyone else, its arcanums of no use.
Forming a nexus, a heaven opens from within; Now the true work of subliming our substance can begin. Essence of the soul thus deified subsists, Of the True Essence of which nature consists. Be entirely transfused into God's holy will, Drinking deeply of the Tincture, take your fill.
A soul absorbed in the consuming fire, Has burned and left behind all earthly desire. Uniting the opposites, sign of Presence without absence, Transcending all notions and allusions to senses. The body that has been filled with light and life, Rests suspended in a world beyond riches and price.
A monument erected full of light and divinity, While deep within there is only serenity. Transformation the means by which we're absorbed, Relieved of the burden of our very core. Radiations of faith forestall vain fatigue, Unware of the body, spell-bound through intrigue.
Exerting just one moment of absolute energy, I break through the barrier and go where God carries me. Energetic devotions open the axis of heaven, That toward which we have mightily striven. Kissed by the grace of the Unus Mundus, All the forms of the world reach out and embrace us.
Our original nature is primal void and still, Consummating this marriage, life's greatest thrill. Its heralds are roll of drum and peal of thunder, Immersion in a resounding universe of wonder. Rest in that state, and wipe clean your cortex, Run your course in the Supernals' brilliant vortex.
OUR ARCANUM Iona Miller, c2000
Repeating the entire Creation in a Name, Nakedly stripped of veils like Salome. That short prayer pierces Heaven, But not yet surpassing even Sphere Seven.
Gaze upon the glory of the Pure Land, Looking within, it's always been so close at hand. Uprooting Tree of Life to find deep meaning, Banishing aspirations of desire into leaving.
You are divine essence enshrined within itself, Laugh at all your past efforts, aspire to no new estate. Suspended infinity, untied to the roots of art; Simply rest in that, making sunrise in your heart.
There's no truth to seek, just stop having views, Looking newly realized, but no newer than dew. Realize it's only surreal actions performed in a dream, Sweet as honeycomb, essence rising like cream.
Climbing into the roots of Heaven's Tree, One state of being glimpsing another, so free. Living on nectar, growing jewels in our hearts, Out in the ether where void shines into void, apart.
All principles the same from the tripod of Truth, Divorced from image, form, and tabernacle booth. No one left to consider the naked essence of His Face; No me or Thee, or time, place, or space.
See deep into all eras, from the Seeming Beginning; The Stone prepared by an empty furnace kindling. Through golden ages of sages to the "Perpetual Standard," Crowned with starry diadem, so saintly-mannered.
CHYMICAL MARRIAGE Iona Miller, c2000
Mingle mystical substances to realize the goal, Perfecting intimate Knowledge of the infinite soul. Bring forth entire "the incorruptible One," Engendered in the silent eclipse of the Sun. Gate of heavenly peace, enter through this Sundoor; Replenish the well-springs of life and creation, evermore.
Lead to the root of my heart's true affection, Awaiting luminescent visitation, deep in self-introspection. Yet seeking His scent on my clothes and my skin, Aetheric essence, balsam, and panacea generated within. Fragrant notes of the honey of white and red lily deepen, Our journey will end in Hermes' bath of regeneration.
This scent, a meditative pursuit of ultimate worth, Denotes mortal Death reversed in continuous birth. No more poetic veils conceal when appetites are stilled, Immortal vehicles mounted, all our needs fulfilled. The conjunction we strive for, a philosophical operation, Tainted by nothing so common as carnal temptation.
Only through a medium can the transition take place; King and Queen dissolve in water, leaving barely a trace. Spiritual water, the "marriage maker" secretly appears, Binding truth hidden in matter, alaying all fears. Quintessence is cooked, stirred in the natural vessel, In dissolving, "shared death," slaying holy and special.
Radiant emanations in a brilliant mandala, Disclosure of the final sacred secret of mystical Qabala. All symbols gone, eternity stripping mythology, Left alone in the Silence, devoid of all terminology. Unio mystica, soaring aloft, peaceful as a dove; Lost in endless cascades of limitless Supernal love.
Magically effective substance, "panacea spagyric," Distillation of theory and practice of the mystic. Turning that which is not into that which will be, Soar on winged feet into the clouds of ecstasy. Beyond celestial markers of the soul's inner caelum, Drink the medicine of Wisdom, find the spirit's asylum.
Untold virtues gallore from this incorrupt medicament, Which leads us seductively from our ancient predicament. Down this "dew of grace," known only to a refined few, Aqua vitae, rosmaryed substance of celestial sea-dew. Child of two parents -- the elements and heaven, Transmutes all bodies to their true disposition.
Angels stand rapt in inexpressable wonder, Stunned at the honeyed silence of love's sacred thunder. "Sparks of light," scintillae; "sweet odor" of the Spirit. "Enchanter's nightshade" draws the soul near it. Cast off your old garments, magnetically ascend, Nowhere does soul begin and body end.
Replenish the well-springs of creation with life evermore.
ESOTERIC TARANTELA Iona Miller, c2000
Supreme intelligence dances in the soul, Footsteps left in glittering light across celestial bowl.
Clad in golden ornaments and transparent tarlatan, Dropping all outer garments of linen and muslin. Source of lovers' passions swelling in their fullness, Ravishment filling you with instantaneous, joyous bliss. Swirling, diving, twirling, continuously in motion, Drunk on the holy wine of God's potent potion.
Passionate energy of erotic engagement, Love will not bear even the finest containment. Sensual transcendence, exotic and taboo, Can still the fire of what love can do. Partners melting in contagious ecstasy, Each anointing as many as a hundred shrines a day.
In the artful trance of dancers' gestures, Each follows the line of the other's postures. Embracing in some esoteric tarantela, The mad dance of ecstasy and movement mania. The suitably united mold to the mystic dance, Responding to what each partner intiates, by stance.
A new ballet, weaving a graceful pas de deux, Great dance of existence, which becomes a pas seul. Heightened experience, vibratory movements and rhythms, The beat of the drums and the pulsings of sistrums. Melody and harmony swell and build, and shrink, Finally refined into ecstasy, so totally sacrosanct.
Enraptured, spinning into imageless Ultimate Reality, Existing only by virtue of its own intrinsicality. Devoid of thought in the timeless now of bliss, Splendor and Glory lie where we cease to exist. Erotic explosion, simultaneous resonance; Temperance, deep communion, fortuitous circumstance.
Surrender to intense experience, wild Dervish dance, Then relax completely into God's holy ordinance. Feel total expansion, bathe in that perpetual irradiation, Beauty, Mightiness, and Mercy open a whole new dimension. Unborn, uncontained by any form of being, Spontaneously initiated into a whole new way of seeing.
The source of creation is a transparent act of love, Vision-weaver, metacosmically directing from above. Emerging at the root of the spiritual spectrum, The dance of life provides a balanced fulcrum. Universal seed of evanescent panorama, Revealing untold mysteries of the celestial diorama.
At the summit, Eternal Present, Eye of Eternity, Most welcome initiation into life's spiritual fraternity.
PILLARS IN THE SKY Iona Miller, c2000
Three great Pillars in the sky:
One black, one white, one pure Clear Light, In spell-bound awe, we gaze at the wondrous sight. Portal of the mystic death, heaven's gate to the Middle Way; Ascend there by absorbing the celestial ray. Claim this Crown we call the blessed home, True abode of Atika Kadisha and Adam Kadmon.
In the universal science of cosmology, We can only conceive mystic grandeur by gross analogy. Oculus Divinus, powers and virtues of all the Roots, Macrocosm/microcosm, known by its pomegranate fruits. Nature is the book in which their character is written. One is born of Understanding; the other born of Wisdom.
Orbs of Beauty, Strength, and Love follow, From them flows the draught we so long to swallow. Let everything grow and bring forth seed, Will to be Silent, in thought, word, and deed. Bask in the lights of Splendor and blessed Victory, Revealing life's Foundation, panoply of all astral history.
My body shrank to nothingness, so invisible and small, Was mortified and set aflame by the revelation of it All. Aware of the Elohim's numinous Presence, My heart almost failed, yet remained victorious in essence. Mighty currents flowed of gold and silver, The upper firmament's bounty they did deliver.
The life-giving flood of liquid aurum and argentum, Lent my now-refreshed soul even more momentum. The serpentine embrace of intellect of silver, memory of gold, Calling backward and forward to the Golden Age of old. Ex centro in centrum, spiraling out with persistence, Generating Hyle, the germ of objective existence.
My body slept, but my heart was awake, The Bride, Shekinah came calling, gave me a chalice to take. An arm reached out through the unknowing clouds, Offering me the ambrosia of the immortal gods. My body began to tremble; a goblet full of fire and light, The wine of love to raise us to the highest height.
Porta Lucis opened up before my very eyes, Three great Pillars in the sky.
APOCALYPTIC WHIRLWIND Iona Miller, c2000
From the whirlwind came the Sound, Infusing creation for another Round. Archaic whirlwind voice calling me, To climb again Eternity's Tree. Time spirals me home as a loving minion, Announcing the pilgrimage has begun.
Redeemer of the prayers of Saints, A joyous song in blue flame paints, Visions of sidereal glimmerings, nebulous cloud, Through the tapestry of silver mist allowed. Sing in ecstatic chimes of hidden places, And dervish dance till we have no faces.
[Chorus] Triunal rays of luminous light, Torch of flames of pure delight. Blue flames breath pulsating rhythms into me, Invite dissolving in melting synarchy. Fires white hot; white wisdom burning, Golden bough in my hand, gently twisting and turning.
Whirlpool seas of velvet mist, virgin sea breeze, Eternal tides, fountains of living waters seize. Elixer prescribed for crystal clear seeing, Brought me in longing to the wells of your Being. Purple wine of ecstasy, drink "To Me," only "To Me," From the sustenance of virgin sea, evermore enticing Thee.
Inconceivable, soul-enchanting purple union, Leaving no room for carnal confusion. Tranquil upon that silvered morn. In the dawn of time, the swans are born. From the whirlwind came the Sound, Infusing creation for another Round.
SUNDANCER Iona Miller, c2000
No complex philosophy, mystical theosophy, Merely flowback from the Source of ecstasy. Finally forecast in your deep sea-green eyes, Bearing delicate promise of love's greatest prize. A vision-questing, deep soul traveller, Valiantly does his best to unravel her.
Brother in blood, now child of the Lakota, Keeper of Medicine, mysteries of Dakota, I am secretly bidding you to "come to me," Like the whispering voice of the cottonwood tree. Echoing voices of grandmother's genetic family, Deeply stirring in me an ancient memory.
That sanctuary makes my heart sing, A sacred song, with a tender true ring. Rays of light and showers of graces, Taking us to eagle-plummed places. Barefoot on a walk between worlds, On sacred paths we wind and twirl.
One tree at the center of seven great rites, The Eye of the Heart sees everything bright. Making the universe in a ceremonial likeness, Then willingly tied to the dangling harness. Leave this world, not with wings, but with spirit, A realm always there for those who can hear it.
"I now return to the center of the world, in mirth, [The center of the universe is the heart of man;] And carve a line in smooth, soft earth. [Burn the sweet grass, mother-sage, again.] Upon this crossed circle generations will walk, [Know all that is sacred; we are one with all things,] And enter that world which is real, without talk. [Hear the ringing radiance of the call of healing.]"
At last giving up to the living Creator, Fasting and dancing, leaving this world's savor. Fruit of the tree reaching from heaven to earth, Laments and cries for the vision, presaging rebirth. In the throes of this labor, breathing abating, Spirits rising on wings, like drums, hearts pulsating.
Just like dancing in the flames of immortality, Suspended by umbilical from the World Tree. Piercing pain contains its own anesthesia, Beseeching aid brings blissful amnesia. Emptying, the lamenter cries dew-drop sweat, Instantly dissolving stores of infinite regret.
Two diamond scars, the mark of soul healing, Spiritual labors, vigils of prayerful chanting. Return to the center, become a sundancer, Mediating oneness with all things, through intercessor. Form a cross in a circle, travel the Red Road, Transformations undergone in darkness, foretold.
The thirteen months see ebbs and flows, Wisdom and ignorance comes and goes. Like the growing and dying of the moon, At fullness she rivals the sun with her boon. Dance on coals, play with fire in your hands, Aware that your medicine reflects where you stand.
Smoke red holy tobacco and use healing plants, Sweat and prayer purifying all gross elements. Pray for and with everything through the Sacred Pipe, Gently wafting to heaven, pleas of every type. Place offerings on the 28 poles of ceremonial lodge, Cleansed and prepared with a loving massage.
The pure contains the universe in the Pocket of his Heart, Knowing that all is sacred, oneness the secret to impart. Being yoked to the spirit is purifying and cleansing, Power is in the meaning and the deep understanding. At the throbbing center, the rattles and drum, Bring resounding memories which now freely come.
No need to speak to Him in a loud, demanding voice, Pray to Him continually, consult for every choice. Holy man, wichasha wakan, son of the Creator, Lithe as an antelope, tough as a badger. Red feather shaman, spirit can't but enter, Walk on sacred paths, return to primal center.