I am older than time, as are your being.
I have known myself but not your seeing
There has never been a Aeon when was I not.
Awaiting my birth, though birthless I was got.
The first, the second and yet the third.
Upon the fourth the spark of man I heard.
Three time three, I laboured within my tomb.
Thus tearful I was wrenched from rocky womb.
Tossing hither yonder burned the axioms.
Was it three Aeons, three years or Suns.
Burning pride, lust and desire, what fatal cost
The passing was woeful and joyful and lost.
Closer and closer came that fiendish blast.
The fire which held me bound and fast.
Now the plaything of childish wretched Man.
Fearing for mankind I fight them best I can.
Fate is stern and no bower to gods or I.
My gift was taken and broken and let lie.
The die once cast falls however it must.
The cause of salvation was cause of lust.
Nature was beaten back with fearless haste.
Rushing headlong self-destruction raced.
Supported by me and beseeched by myself.
Mankind used his Self to destroy the self.
At once I was released in blazing plumes.
Gaily, abandon I danced through the fumes.
Like a die tossed, I rolled with lash and kick.
And danced with Spirit in a glorious rollick.
Fire and Spirit cause over balanced grace.
At last the Spirit in its agonising embrace.
Collapsed into a deluge of heavenly rain.
Thus Spirit congealed to emotions pain.
The resulting Waters washed over and in.
Cleansed all Her children of that hubris sin.
Our Mother drew us back to Her embrace.
And closed the chapter of our fourth race.
The great rest was then the cosmic decree.
The great pendulum of growth foresee.
A time of healing and a time of forgetting.
A new Aeon approaches new times setting.
In greater circles mingled rumours rife.
A race come of age in pubescent strife.
About the fifth and mighty promised song.
Of pain and suffering and tribulations long.
To invoke the powers deep within madness.
This time I was awaiting with such gladness.
I had hopes and dreams of Mans future vast.
With sober and steady hand in control at last.
I burned with yearning to hear the call of mine.
Awaited times are slow to appear and shine.
Even to one who knows eternity and the now.
To meet at last those men of guile know-how.
How calculated and skilfully off their spindle.
The Fates moved in their monstrous trundle.
Manoeuvring and setting out their courses.
Came the web of consequence and causes.
In darkness shines lights unseen and hidden.
Dragons of hunger spiritual arise unbidden.
From the depths of the blackest foulest pit
Swirling, churning, hunger driven souls flit.
With destructive fire we examine the gold
To find the true nature hidden in the fold
And with gold it is we must assay the flame.
The one true gold requires the fire of fame.
Hero's many arose out of despondent dark
Tested many without profit, lacking spark.
No hope did we loose throughout the stream
It was an age of hero's, of the mystic's dream.
There arose after much jostling and jousting
A tiny band of true and tested men of lusting
Driven by the true valiant spark of yearning
After the one and only truth worth learning.
Seeking, searching, questing, preserving went
This gallant company with valiant intent
Unearthing the secrets of the Earthly begotten.
Found imprisoned within the realms forgotten.
At last a coy and lonely mothers son discovered
And all the hidden strengths within recovered.
The source of true fire confined within thy breast
Will drive the willing warrior beyond any arrest.
A caution now I must set down before I leave.
That fire that burns within, you must not cleave.
In my confinement I am set free, to work my due
Begetter of dreams and the prerogative that is you.
Keith Buckingham Hirst