At the zenith of all creation, outside the boundless divine
Where in full splendour of God’s All-Holy love a lofty
Temple rise in roseate light of highest sublimity,
Within this solemn sanctum, at its innermost core, a wondrous translucent chalice radiates in holiness; bubbling and effervescent like glowing red-blood wine. It is not granted us to behold this magical spectacle. For our spirits lack obviously the vigour and lightness to enable us reach this holy of holies.
Remember your thoughts are vibrational in nature, setting in motion ripples like gravitational waves. Never abuse this power to think. We are therefore urged by the Truth-bringer who exhorts with these far-reaching words: Keep the hearth of your thoughts pure…
Nighfall comes laden with sweet smell of lavender, and the far-flung azure echoes its soulful intent. Wondrous, translucent stars pour out argent lambency onto a lake unclouded by ponderance and agitation. So begins this nocturnal benediction inviting us into a refuge of long-lasting calm, which now envelopes the vales.
The circling, sibilant sound of turtle doves hang in the air. Nightingales sing glorious hymns to the Evenstar, and to the queen of flowers: The Rose.