The Vortex Poem Awoke I bathed in light Goats passed through the Sun Bathed in Light The presence blesses the breeze Gazed I at the hierarchy above Amazed at leaves bathed in light Dimensions of branches Unfolding into Paradise

Unearthly Burdened root labyrinth Into the dark beneath delving Soaking the day fall first Enlightened Thou the One who blossoms Lightfallen

When the Lamb spilt blood And the blood was sprinkled by The priests Thou sent golden stalks Rythmic, sacred harvest Awoke I amid the milkweed Monarch filled with love Hearing the blasts of the horns Sounding out of the monastic hills

Awoke I bathed in light From the sleep of death And my son came unto me The diadem upon his brow In the thickets of life Bewildered, heavy, thirsty of soul, And my son spoke to me Why am I cast in darkness, Father?”

Said I “why is thy altar sprinkled with blood?” Listen all, I sing the Vortex Poem That twists down Into the crescent moon Two pointed horns hung like musical galaxies

Listen as I burn the incense of The living Lord When the horns bellow at dawn Motioned down out of the hills The dawn painted stones The reverberations of Being the holy white oxen of heaven

Bend I my soul to Thee Who cast out emptiness Unimaginable And created all Thou uncreated of himself As simply as blossoms do fall For when stretched out Thou didst paint the figures of horses upon the ultimate cavern of the non-void..