A spirit in smoke.

Reminisce;

How the realms formed within the reddest mist

The simplest twist of smoke had its destiny,

Operculum, Red Myrhh, Styrax

For;

In you all scaffolding of dreams is folded

And grows through the seams of

Simple things, burrs bursting

Even now in all the distant kingdoms

It is twisting through the air- the lattice

Of this new reality.

And your are here interweaving

Subtly in the fashion of the new formation,

All the moods and the passions of the

Air- you exist folding the pulses of the

Wind, the secret channels through which

It carries space within space, distances

Across distance,

In the indrawn cave where

I first met you-

Operculum, Red Myrrh, Styrax

Were the offering to the fire

Which burnt beyond the

Lamp of time- and as your

Form began to rise- I could

Tell it wasn't of nature

Reminisce;

How the realms formed within the reddest mist

The simplest twist of smoke had its destiny,

Operculum, Red Myrhh, Styrax

For;

In you all scaffolding of dreams is folded

And grows through the seams of

Simple things, burrs bursting

Even now in all the distant kingdoms

It is twisting through the air- the lattice

Of this new reality.

And your are here interweaving

Subtly in the fashion of the new formation,

All the moods and the passions of the

Air- you exist folding the pulses of the

Wind, the secret channels through which

It carries space within space, distances

Across distance,

In the indrawn cave where I first met you-

Operculum, Red Myrrh, Styrax

Were the offering to the fire

Which burnt beyond the

Lamp of time- and as your

Form began to rise- I could

Tell it wasn't of nature

"Taches Solaires", "Geometric

Messenger From the

Three Poles" forever

Echoing-- echo and

Dislodge: in my eyes

You became the solar

Secret of Fumage

And now I am become

As Anaximander-- this

Secret day-- For I am turning

In my hands the seeds of

Worlds-- the ambrosial

Seeds of flame, which are

Shifting and dancing in

A voluble grace-- I make

The spinning wheel of all

Time, trace shapes of a

Gyre within itself, letting

Cycle spin unto cycle

Moment melt unto moment

Blossoming- as time also

Dissapitates, stands still

All that is raw in earth

Becoming pure, shifting

Patterns of these worlds

Alchemical Cycles-

Spin cinnabar to jade

To gold

You are what is hidden

In the Pays Interdit-- the

Inward vessel, the shimmering

Pearl, the heart and the pangs

Of it- the war in which

Many worlds are born

Rising above all of it

You are- the "Ciel De Peurve",

The "Harpe Astrale"-

Become depressurized,

Expanding and interweaving

In many horizons of silky

Smoke, and above as

Sunlight glints upon the

Golden and resistant

Stratosphere- the clouds

Themselves synchronize

And float, with patterns

Of this smoke below

And as you rose

You were the spirit

The spirit of all art - it was as if

I took had taken thr Visage De Profil,

brought it

To your heat, so that the

spirit emblazoned

Upon it melted off leaping

And danced in freedom, growing in

Its true form and shapes, well beyond

The picturing and the imagination of its

Creator, and flowed

Pulsing in patterns

Rotating within each other, in many

Inward, dancing, cycles of the

Repeating form each a of the next

Mandalic repetitions of

The forms of your mist split off

From each other splitting

Into new shape and form

You sink into the earths core

In order to revitalize it

There are many multitudes

Of vert and of emerald in

My spirit that you send

Thrilling- your spirit

Swims the air--

As the Jade and Malachite

Of you smooths and soothes

You the burnt off residue of

Despair and of happiness

You dance the "Eight Silk

Brocades" -- you dance the

"Looking over your shoulder

To the moon"

As you started to rise

I could tell your form wasn't

Of nature- Taches Solaires,

Geometric Messenger From the

Three Poles forever echoing

You were the solar secret of Fumage

I am become as Anaximander,

For I am turning in my mind, the ambrosial

Seeds, the flame -- of so many unborn

World's

You are the secret of balance in all

Things which is furled

And

With hands cupped to the eyes

I become as Appolonius--

Seeing inward, all patterns melt into the

Darkness of those cupped spaces--

And then eyes quivering upwards

Flicker open the vision attempting

To surf upon the twisting torrents of

These flames- which split from one

Another and each echoing the patterns

Of the other's rapid pulsing and writhing

In increasing sync

An almost unbearable wave of heat

Forces the eyes to close- and then there

Comes- the coolness; eyes

Now strobing between scrying

The fire- where beings and forms

Beyond imagining are

In all patterns of the smoke

The space inward-- behind the

Eyes goes from the black emptiness

To the charged darkness of the

Starry sky

Yes

I closed my eyes, and mapped out

In you the pantomime, Thick Realms

In you the sinuous shape of time

The sinew of time, static form

Now sinuously given unto the new.

I marked it's structure, and from

Whence it was-- the cresting

Spirit of the dove, hidden in the

Passive stillness- caressing the

Spirit and healing it

As you come back out- rearising

I can feel the gates

Within me opening- the flow from

"Magpie Bridge" to the "Jade Palace",

Turning to the middle Dantian -

Floating down the ladder- "small heaven"

And "small earth" interlinking

In me love and solace and peace

Crests, ever interkneading.'

Forever