Only man can fall from God
Only man.
No animal, no beast nor creeping thing
no cobra nor hyaena nor scorpion nor hideous white ant
can slip entirely through the fingers of the hands of god
into the abyss of self-knowledge,
knowledge of the self-apart-from-god.
For the knowledge of the self-apart-from-God
is an abyss down which the soul can slip
writhing and twisting in all the revolutions
of the unfinished plunge
of self-awareness, now apart from God, falling
fathomless, fathomless, self-consciousness wriggling
writhing deeper and deeper in all the minutiae of self-knowledge,
downards, exhaustive,
yet never, never coming to the bottom, for there is no bottom;
zigzagging down like the fizzle from a finished rocket
the frizzling falling fire that cannot go out, dropping wearily,
neither can it reach the depth
for the depth is bottomless,
so it wriggles its way even further down, further down
at last in sheer horror of not being able to leave of
knowing itself, knowing itself apart from God, falling.
(D.H.Lawrence from Last Poems, 1932)
April becomes July, August races to October, time flows like the entire Universe, As above so below, and before you know it its mid November and the stars are out.
The streets are cold and empty as I gaze above and make out distant scintillating constellations, Ursa Minor on a Dragon ride, Orion aims for the Swan, the Pleiades pulse to a distant starbeat and I am still here watching the Cosmos twirl and fall through the Abyss.
All in my head now, spheres of light, bubbles of space invite me to know them as I hasten to make my way to the Courtyard of The King of Crown, who faces away as I fall at His feet mumbling old dusty words meant to reach Him; no matter how long I walk or crawl or run, He is always too far to hear me.
‘Chesed’ I sing ceaselessly ‘Chesed, Mercy..Father why do you turn away?’, but the quiet is deafening as my words fall like the last leaves of Autumn on a ground that is all ice and pain.
I am not in pain though, the pain I speak of is that of the Kingdom annihilating itself and no matter how hard I try to hold it together I know that it too must give over to surrender, but still I continue to beseech for Mercy.
I lift my right hand to catch His attention, and my left hand also goes up of its own accord, one gives one takes, there can never be anything in between. I stomp my feet, one then the other, Left then Right, and in the star dust a Path is formed. I follow it and although it leads me away from the King’s Chambers I am getting closer to the Crown.
I march toward the Light only to realise it is Luna, blazing with the intensity of 432 Suns; the cold scars me. I look behind to find the King only to realise He is ahead once more, He is the White in the Light, shining like a Black Sun, an all consuming Black Hole, spitting out the future, pulverising information and experience, like a maid grinds maize for the loaf.
Chaos eventually condenses to structures of Order, Pillars of the Cosmos holding the Heavens high. Do you see time folding now, folding into an infinite point? Its alright, its just the beginning, Daath is just the beginning, in order for us to inherit the Heavens we must first leave our dust on this Earth.
And damnit always, ALWAYS it’s the same, here there is no ‘Mercy’ or ‘Passion’ or ‘Pain’, here is just the personal relationship we have with the Cosmos, our Mother and our Father, here is just creation principle and nothing else, and the Black Sun Continues to Shine.
