The Sapience of Sin

Wisdom is elaborated with the sapience of sin, and the vertigo of the Absolute. Oh defeated Magdala! Thy withered lips due to too many kisses, also know how to love.... Therefore, I love Thee, fallen woman, I die for Thee, no matter what they say. I like dancing and thy love. Alas! Woman do not leave me, for I die for Thee. Alas! Woman do not leave me, for I only love Thee. The forbidden fruit makes us gods. Thy delectable words of love, and thy grave oaths, are like the fire of the roses, and like those delectable moments which no one knows of... The greatest angels were always devils from great Bacchanalias; they enjoyed the lips of love, they sung the song of songs... Red roses are better than white, because they have the sapience of sin and the vertigo of the Absolute, and because they have wept a lot, a sweet Nazarene has forgiven them.... Temptation is the mother of sin, and the pain of sin is the sapience. Christ loved she who had wept much, and said to her: “Woman, I forgive Thee, for Thou hast loved much...” The most divine Gods are those who have been more human; the most divine Gods are those who were Devils. Chant! Oh Beelzebub, chant thy song, Chant! Oh Beelzebub, a chant of love. Woman, thou art a rose of passion, Thou hast a thousand delectable names, yet, thy true name is love... I want to fasten laurels to thy temples, I want to kiss thy lips with love... I want to tell Thee rare things, I want to tell Thee intimate things, I want to tell Thee everything, within the perfumed room of mahogany. I want to tell Thee everything in starry nights. Thou art the star of Dawn, Thou art the light of Aubade... Thy breasts pour honey and venom, and the liquor of the female is a liquor of Mandrake. It is a summit, an immensity, a fire. It is the ardent and adored flame, through which one enters into heaven...

The Rosicrucian Fellowship Prayer

Not more of Light we ask, O God,

but eyes to see what is

Not sweeter songs, but ears to hear

the present melodies

Not greater strength but how to use

the power that we possess;

Not more of love, but skill to turn

a frown to a caress

Not more of joy, but how to feel

Its kindling presence near;

To give to others all we have

of courage and of cheer.

No other gift, dear God, we ask,

but only sense to see,

how best the precious gifts to use

we have received from Thee

Give us all fears to dominate,

all holy joys to know;

To be the friends we wish to be,

to speak the truth we know

To love the pure, to seek the good,

to lift with all our might,

All souls to dwell in harmony

In freedom's perfect light.

Who Am I?

Who Am I? I asked myself that question and waited in silence until I heard and this is what I dictated.

I am the searcher of information. A beachcomber in the sea of reflection. Often the fool of perception. Chorus of the angels – the voice of the unmanifested. Listener of the repetitive word who am I? I am the silence between the words.
I am the father the gift of life. The traitor in the dark – hidden behind a rock. The knower, The perceiver the great reality – I am.

The dark crevices expanded by light. The unseen observer. Weak and wounded warrior. Listening to the will of the one that is greater. In turmoil letting go – of what it once attached.

Hidden in obscurity. Silence of profundity, The knower sees the assumed wise. Feels compassion but it knows that all that assumed needs to be destroyed.

Silence... descriptive words of the time present tries to describe the details of what am I. Calm abiding, enduring, giver of life. The mind can't decide who it is I or it? The personality attached, the duality attracts to both ends. In muddy water we stand and I Am vanishes in the middle way between the cracks and crevices. From within these the light shines. Lets debrief.

Mind races backwards to describe the experience of what was present and it feels different - nothing is present that wasn't already there but a feeling resides of something left from what was.

Shine ball of light, I look past the light and nothing is really there?!? It would be easy to purport that I am merely light that shines. Cloaked with a body that was sown together with a dark thread. I'm a seamstress replacing the dark thread with the light.

White is the symbol for purity

In ceremonies, it is given as the color of spirituality. Since the ancients taught that we are already pure, they laughed at the teachers who advocated penitence and self-mortification as spiritual methods. They said: “We are already holy. Why struggle to become something we already are?”

The masters of penitence argued that we need to refine ourselves; to cleanse away disgusting desires to arrive at the pure soul inside.

The ancients replied: “If a prince dresses in different clothes, does that change the fact he is a prince? You are already sons of God. Why be so stupid as to obscure yourself when you were born complete?”

The masters of penitence declared: “Humans are evil. Humans are filled with greed. Even the innocent child is corrupted in this ocean of suffering. Let us practice holiness, so that we can return to the pure state.”

The ancients only smiled and said: “If we take up a stone and rub and rub, can we make it into a diamond?”

“Not if it wasn’t a diamond to begin with,” the masters of penitence admitted.With that, the ancients walked away.

The King

There is a king who is coming to see two mens house - one cleaned up his house nicely, the other decided to work on his character and leave his house a mess. When he arrived at the first guys house he left upon hearing the first thing out of the guys mouth, upon the second guys house he didn't stay either but invited him along.

One shell before the pearl

There are a thousand shells in front of man. Man begins to open one by one. If he doesn't find the pearl, he stops short – one shell before the pearl.

Speak of Internal Work

Speaks of internal work and my mind turns to contemplation uponcontests wrought and maidens bought, some aped to captivity or labrynthene ways defended only by virtues' sudden determination...and something is rescued or remained to better venture. But who scouts the apparent desperate plight Perseus once owned and the Virgin thence delivered?
Who will rill the tides or Boreus endorse upon the reus, a strong company of friends and worthy allies bold, more tempering outcomplaint, unruly herd? Roe and Hart the hunting goes while Artemismunder the Sun enclosed the rounds of pasturage, nothing worthy left towandering. Where is Apollo's Windbag, or pipes of Pan, the hermetic ribbons raised? shhhhh, to muttering in the Dark.