of Will in Eternal Becoming (a chant, a channeling)

The fires of immortality burn an everlasting, an everlasting sorrow that binds us during our waking life, and our dreams, on the threshold of a new brightness, a new sensation, of the nerves peeling, and the horizons all creeping towards a new dawn, to swallow all the despair, to swallow all pain and hatred, to be perfect in belonging, what else is desired? But yet a slicing impairs the world with a separation, so in 2 there is a divide, a simple yearning, magick becomes voluptuous as the duality begets another duality, a binary within, so the swirling opposites, held in straining, by the single body a sigil, a posture that sees the bottoming out of the world, and the unveiling of the Skies, Hatred/ Love, Joy/Sorrow, these passions spring from already existing apart, and an immortal beauty is the union of the two to one again, so walk to the shrines of fallen man, descend upon his rituals, learn his ways well, so you may know the perfect desire within each union, ecstatic, joinings as passionate as the shuddering wails of young love, in the pale skin of the beloved, for the first time glowing strangely, like the world seen in youth, embodied, everything swaying beneath your Will, but still the sorrow holds, and a pathetic clinging to joy, a desperate longing for the union, but the union is only felt in the forgetting, the formless passage of energy, so God may be rid of, stamped and dismantled, caressed to an immortal grave, so the Body of God will make a void within itself, sent to the fair velvet seas of satisfaction, the yearning ceases, as we know then the headless man immaculate, how the seizure of the atoms that created this moment instead of another, that the invisible fire that is seated in my skull, and enraptures my brain, and after my decapitation, becomes my new eyes, my new face, my new self; all new, the eternal copulation, is ever fresh, and it is Death mating with Life, creating constant Strife, the violence of Becoming, the path that you stray upon; go fearlessly, so the simple passage with be known; stride with silence, love solitude, then the passage to Ecstasy is found, in the way of self-love, and melting into the Imminent Lady of Desire, a lady of the witchqueen, sweet Azliekia, sweet emanation of the White Lady; first dressed fairly, then arrayed towards disorder, then naked, the curtains drawn tight, so blackness falls heavily, like a shroud, keeping every word a precious secret, hummed, throbbed, over flesh, tasted hotly on places left untouched, nakedness becomes nudity, and a tender vulnerability thrashes against the walls of the self, calmed by fair, white hands, tasted on union of perfect dreaming; two wills meet, dissolving; for the White Goddess of the Wild Hunt, Diana’s Hounds Howl in the Forest, and Lilith bares all for consumption; Babylon is falling; Babalon, as her cup is filled, and the seething turns to a silence, the sighing turns softer and softer, as the self is two a part, a congregation of pieces, on the black altar, and a single spark, the Love, the Joy, all that matters, is felt in the perfect union, the ecstasy itself is the teacher, and the sacrifice is laid bare, so ivory skin, ivory teeth, and veins pumping hotly, there in eternal flesh, the veil of immortality descends, and the Joy of Death, the Joy of Judgement, is known, on the body breaching all horizons, a fear in the expansion, an excitement of transformation, on the threshold of all thresholds; there the marriage bed is stained crimson, a crimson relating the rapture, the immortal sex, above the shifting mass of flesh, above the pains of the crowd, the Ego swept up in a violent sea, finding bearing through Desire, held firmly with Belief, supported through Will, validated through Will, Love is Will expressed through flesh, the secret of the cabbalistic zero is attained, as the skies and earth collide, shifting a sex upon the air, wavering between states, Nature knows herself as a violent becoming, and in Being you feel that Possession, and all Beasts, scream within your form, at the onslaught of transmogrification, as your Eyes catch that fatal, final horizon. Rising, through the doctrine of pleasure, one leaves the cave of angelic copulation, and the song of heaven becomes a painful tune, the dust that you belonged to becomes a horror, and death wears an ugly mask, so one will dream of being separate again, so the pagan ecstatic realms of sense, the rosicrucian path of hermetic union, and the mystical annihilation are forgotten, so they may meet in Ecstasy at the point of dissolving, which is the action point of senselessness containing a primal sense; there, there is no there, only Space, infinite, freeing; only Space in total surrender, and in that losing, in that entrance to eternity, beg the fair lady to make the agony tremble more hotly, so the agony will be a secret joy, the shame a crown, and drink of the cup of the saints, drink it down indulgently, for the sting is a painless fire, and it cleanses, as a cut along the thigh is a roaring river, the slash along the eyes a birth of new eyes, new universes, a creation of a new visionary realm, so flesh may be known to be immortal, and all immortality stained with flesh, so the ecstasy at the summit, at the sabbath, the microcosm and macrocosm fold into one domain, will be the ultimate validation of Being, of Will in Eternal Becoming.