“You are a sly, uncontrollable creature and half of me is now enthralled. So come, whisper more of your sweet nothings in my shell-like ear – but take good care that my husband does not hear!”
He leaned towards her with half closed eyes. “You are immortal and invincible. If only you could show me that your body has a heart we would rule the cosmos completely….”
She cut him off sharply and raised a warning hand. “And why should I have a heart, foolish being, when such a thing was made to just be broken? Do you not know that my age-old son – the unconquered warrior – stands poised right above you with his deadly, love-tipped arrow. One more word about love and you, Dionysus, shall be blighted for your eternal life by the lust of Aphrodite, abandoned to Ariadne’s web by this fatal charm”.
She turned towards the herald of all ages and held out her hand. “Come now, Magician – it is time for us to make another mystery, for you are the one that must travel time to tell this story, but not before I invest you with my invincible will….”
Apollo turned to their father and bowed. “The muses who love me shall make here their bed. The will of the King of the Gods shall be carved out in lead”.
Zeus praised his Sun, now beaming. “Blessed you are, Prince of Paeans, for you are the one who shall dictate my whims and wishes to the wondering world. But first you must find a worthy instrument for our fateful music…”
Come, blessed pow'r, thy mystics' mem'ry wake, to holy rites, and Lethe's fetters break - Orphic hymn to Mnemosyne
Showing posts with label magician. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magician. Show all posts
Tuesday, 27 May 2014
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Eagles of East and West
In a place beyond time and space, illumined by the midnight sun, Zeus brought to mind the Eagles of East and West. Holding them in sight, he gave to them their mission, saying: “Fly now each of you in his own direction. Neither is swifter than the other; the place where you meet I shall pin down forever as the centre of this world.
When their flight was complete and the marker laid down, Zeus commanded the gods to come down from their clouds to witness the creation of his temple on Earth. Each arrived swiftly in his or her elemental guise, Sun and Moon first among equals.
A bull emerged from the forest, metamorphosing with a swagger into a shining youth. He walked hand-in-hand with the loveliest female and raised to her moistened lips an earthen jar of ruby‐coloured wine.
Her love‐child laughed with his magician .
Hera gazed broodingly at the twice‐born son of his father and a nimbus descended on the assembly. “I hope you will not reserve too many honours for the youth Dionysus, husband, for he is only quite immortal, with half true blood in his blue, engorged veins”.
Zeus roared with laughter and raised a toast to his progeny. “But see the ones who are with him, sister, you must admit he is in great company - the body of desire with the power of love and herald of all ages - I see no issue here but that which is great!”
He turned to his eldest boy, golden Sun of heaven. “Come now Apollo, step beyond the clouds and send forth your rays. I would have you build me a house where men from all corners of the world will come to learn their destiny.”
When their flight was complete and the marker laid down, Zeus commanded the gods to come down from their clouds to witness the creation of his temple on Earth. Each arrived swiftly in his or her elemental guise, Sun and Moon first among equals.
A bull emerged from the forest, metamorphosing with a swagger into a shining youth. He walked hand-in-hand with the loveliest female and raised to her moistened lips an earthen jar of ruby‐coloured wine.
Her love‐child laughed with his magician .
Hera gazed broodingly at the twice‐born son of his father and a nimbus descended on the assembly. “I hope you will not reserve too many honours for the youth Dionysus, husband, for he is only quite immortal, with half true blood in his blue, engorged veins”.
Zeus roared with laughter and raised a toast to his progeny. “But see the ones who are with him, sister, you must admit he is in great company - the body of desire with the power of love and herald of all ages - I see no issue here but that which is great!”
He turned to his eldest boy, golden Sun of heaven. “Come now Apollo, step beyond the clouds and send forth your rays. I would have you build me a house where men from all corners of the world will come to learn their destiny.”
Monday, 19 May 2014
The Magic Book
Precisely as the confident sun was crossed by a thick, scudding, cloud, the atmosphere in Mysteries was electrified by morbid anxiety verging on panic. To lose the book would be an unmitigated disaster, of this there could be no doubt. There were only seven known-of copies on the planet, the other two having been lost in the midst of time while three updated versions were yet to be recalled and translated from the Akashic records .
A well-preserved copy was with the Dalai Lama, while the elder Rabbi – who had denied its existence no less than 28 times because of his pathological obsession with total secrecy – kept the most pristine version within a hidden compartment in his personal library.
An Indian sage called Mahavatar Babaji had also received a Pros Theon scroll that he subsequently left with his disciples, while a famously un-heard of Sufi Magician inherited the fifth from his grandfather.
This highly revered leader of a largely forgotten tribe of nomads had escaped persecution by retreating to a hidden network of mountain caves above the plains of ancient Babylon. From this increasingly imperilled retreat, he and his devoted disciples kept alive a love-fuelled tradition that transported them all to a revolutionary state of pure ecstasy on a well-timed basis.
The Catholic Church had the remaining extant copies of Pros Theon. The first was mostly in fragments and frequently misinterpreted due to the high number of puzzling gaps in crucial places, while a second had been retrieved by the Knights Templar from a vault below the Church of the Sepulchre in Jerusalem, shortly before mad caliph al-Hakim came to power in the dark ages.
Sealed in a ruby and amethyst-encrusted casket that was locked with a golden key bearing three perfect emeralds and a set of alchemical sigils that were barely understood by anyone alive, this particular copy of Pros Theon had not been opened for almost 1,000 years and nor would it ever be again.
The witness felt a sudden chill. Was it possible that the only freely available text had been lost or – it hardly bore contemplating – stolen? Oh, the horrors if that were true! The very thought brought about cold sweats and a search that was renewed with marked zelatory.
Holy Krishna, Moses and Mary, Christ the everlasting Lord, please don’t let Pros Theon fall into the wrong hands. Forgive me for so carelessly misplacing it, I beg of you to let me find The Book…I sense that the shift is now occurring and the world must be told what has been written for The Days of Transformation!
A well-preserved copy was with the Dalai Lama, while the elder Rabbi – who had denied its existence no less than 28 times because of his pathological obsession with total secrecy – kept the most pristine version within a hidden compartment in his personal library.
An Indian sage called Mahavatar Babaji had also received a Pros Theon scroll that he subsequently left with his disciples, while a famously un-heard of Sufi Magician inherited the fifth from his grandfather.
This highly revered leader of a largely forgotten tribe of nomads had escaped persecution by retreating to a hidden network of mountain caves above the plains of ancient Babylon. From this increasingly imperilled retreat, he and his devoted disciples kept alive a love-fuelled tradition that transported them all to a revolutionary state of pure ecstasy on a well-timed basis.
The Catholic Church had the remaining extant copies of Pros Theon. The first was mostly in fragments and frequently misinterpreted due to the high number of puzzling gaps in crucial places, while a second had been retrieved by the Knights Templar from a vault below the Church of the Sepulchre in Jerusalem, shortly before mad caliph al-Hakim came to power in the dark ages.
Sealed in a ruby and amethyst-encrusted casket that was locked with a golden key bearing three perfect emeralds and a set of alchemical sigils that were barely understood by anyone alive, this particular copy of Pros Theon had not been opened for almost 1,000 years and nor would it ever be again.
The witness felt a sudden chill. Was it possible that the only freely available text had been lost or – it hardly bore contemplating – stolen? Oh, the horrors if that were true! The very thought brought about cold sweats and a search that was renewed with marked zelatory.
Holy Krishna, Moses and Mary, Christ the everlasting Lord, please don’t let Pros Theon fall into the wrong hands. Forgive me for so carelessly misplacing it, I beg of you to let me find The Book…I sense that the shift is now occurring and the world must be told what has been written for The Days of Transformation!
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