The belief in the mundane or reason disfigured.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Tautology of Hermetic Thought. Part One.

Submitted: September 23, 2008

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Submitted: September 23, 2008



As morning comes with some fool as the rain

the ancient of days writes a tune in his pain

in later retreats does the sun burn away

constricting the world into lays of the day

the belief of mundane, the reasons disfigured

create complex riddles within words undelivered

for reasoned support and subtle ideal

collapsing frontiers in this sense of our real

Hyram commands arcane arts and our conscience retreat

we stand as though nought within reasons defeat.

In light speed up the way that we see

we join in the tactfulness of real company

But if were not, not and nothing yet so

we change our constrictions as above, so below

would ancient belief fathom the last?

and cast out his dogma in charity past

defender of proof conspirator of fools

common denounce forge less useless tools

and if our found objects as art we succeed

we condition the light to observe caution's creed

Companions life to hide soon from this blight

and heretics burn our confusions aright

on the throne of the Queen we see the worship

apotheosis constrained for phantoms gloss kiss lip

and wandering lights give us threats all the more

to delight us and weaken the head round this door

from Bacon's brazen bright head to Paracelceus whore

we scrabble and scrape push our face to the floor

For weeping and debt are strained in our ears

as calamity beckons and sucks licensed fears

elements grace of four streams does she take

for crystal communion does not a crowd make

And secrets once lost do but once come about

and it is all for nothing if our joy do we shout

for secrets they are and so shall remain

a myth wrapped in a mystery within this domain

A Golden Bough of uncertained demand

a rough jointed circle now drawn in this sand

the king now defeated goes back to his life

his son, his oppressor now marries his wife

forgotten what fought for, forgotten what pain

in the reasons for light and the shine of bloodstain.

Beelzebub's tales to his Grandson or fraction between

give a right to this writing an excess of spleen

so believe mind afore matter in all that who say

in terms of this alchemy, where a will there's a way

so complex intent to content read text esoteric

andmasonic leave with much sympathetic

for to sound as this whale what you will soon understand

is that nature source ocean deep her own steep demand

and to understand all of this alchemist's right

you must stand yet alone in the lee of the night.

© Copyright 2017 Ken Simm. All rights reserved.

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