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Alpha and Omega: The Egg and the Maiden
- Alpha and Omega: The Egg and the Maiden -
Being a surreal, cosmic meditation.
Singing in the solemn dark, shimmering silvery,
The porcelain maiden stands taller than the sky…
Holding to her bosom the pulsing egg of purity.
When it cracks, it unleashes what none can defy:
The power of creation manifesting in azure hues,
Each ray of light a hand reaching out to so grasp…
A universe so helpless before that, which ensues!
One cycle ends, its’ death unleashing final gasps,
Of laboring breath like poison added unto flame.
This is how cycles end, destruction and rebirth…
Copulating in fire, unleashing light with no shame,
From out the darkness of an old, dying universe.
Alpha and omega, the origin and the revelation,
Need not mortal understanding to be understood.
They care naught for high rank or for education,
For, they exist in the hidden places of our blood.
The new arises, the old passes away forgotten…
But she, who sang the song of the end, sings yet!
Heed my words and know of all that is begotten,
And remember the whole, for mortals oft forget.
A new symphony is being written every moment,
So that for every death, a life is ushered in swift!
Those who by choice see not: will feel torment,
When all others sing with her, and many are left…
To the crucible in which a new order shall arise!
The old order is without meaning upon that day,
For the phoenix must take flight with the sunrise.
Many, will be called, whilst many still must stay!
Alpha and omega, the genesis and the rapture,
Need not willing souls to serve their grand ends.
Their power shapes all, making everything pure,
For, all that which so evolves not, creation rends.
Green power from the hidden realms of divinity,
Where the Vril wait to receive, and to bestow…
Gifts, of magnitude: beyond the ken of mortality.
Hear the song of the maiden to learn and know!
She sings with constant harmony clear as water,
And, they hear her song: they, mortals call gods.
The Vril channel the might of that pure daughter,
And the green energy ripples, in emerald floods.
The hidden kingdoms art rocked by the power,
Whilst humanity is transformed, able to evolve…
Because of the petals of a pale emerald flower!
Round the egg of alpha and omega, we revolve.
Alpha and omega, the egg and the pale maiden,
Need not our devotion or our revulsion to exist.
They are, both ever-revealed, and ever-hidden,
For, they art the authors of both wrath and bliss.
Being a surreal, cosmic meditation.
Singing in the solemn dark, shimmering silvery,
The porcelain maiden stands taller than the sky…
Holding to her bosom the pulsing egg of purity.
When it cracks, it unleashes what none can defy:
The power of creation manifesting in azure hues,
Each ray of light a hand reaching out to so grasp…
A universe so helpless before that, which ensues!
One cycle ends, its’ death unleashing final gasps,
Of laboring breath like poison added unto flame.
This is how cycles end, destruction and rebirth…
Copulating in fire, unleashing light with no shame,
From out the darkness of an old, dying universe.
Alpha and omega, the origin and the revelation,
Need not mortal understanding to be understood.
They care naught for high rank or for education,
For, they exist in the hidden places of our blood.
The new arises, the old passes away forgotten…
But she, who sang the song of the end, sings yet!
Heed my words and know of all that is begotten,
And remember the whole, for mortals oft forget.
A new symphony is being written every moment,
So that for every death, a life is ushered in swift!
Those who by choice see not: will feel torment,
When all others sing with her, and many are left…
To the crucible in which a new order shall arise!
The old order is without meaning upon that day,
For the phoenix must take flight with the sunrise.
Many, will be called, whilst many still must stay!
Alpha and omega, the genesis and the rapture,
Need not willing souls to serve their grand ends.
Their power shapes all, making everything pure,
For, all that which so evolves not, creation rends.
Green power from the hidden realms of divinity,
Where the Vril wait to receive, and to bestow…
Gifts, of magnitude: beyond the ken of mortality.
Hear the song of the maiden to learn and know!
She sings with constant harmony clear as water,
And, they hear her song: they, mortals call gods.
The Vril channel the might of that pure daughter,
And the green energy ripples, in emerald floods.
The hidden kingdoms art rocked by the power,
Whilst humanity is transformed, able to evolve…
Because of the petals of a pale emerald flower!
Round the egg of alpha and omega, we revolve.
Alpha and omega, the egg and the pale maiden,
Need not our devotion or our revulsion to exist.
They are, both ever-revealed, and ever-hidden,
For, they art the authors of both wrath and bliss.
Published 1st Nov 2014
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1st Nov 2014 6:51am
A mystery can only be so when it is not known, and yet racial memories do remember if only one look deep enough. Enjoyed the read, dear Jessica. As usual you are so good in writing this genre.
1st Nov 2014 7:31am
My thanks, Grace! I was actually in a bit of a spiritual trance when I wrote this tonight... so there was a lot of mystical energy I was channeling methinks, along with the memories you speak of, which hold the key to many mysteries. Not everyone can know the things that some might consider to be unknowable, but everyone has the capacity to fathom the deeper magical things if they desire to. This poem, I believe, expresses a lot of that nicely, and carries with it quite a few mysteries of its' own which I am delighted to have shared here on DUP! :)
1st Nov 2014 8:52am
You are so right there. Many might not really be able to fathom these mysteries, but they are a joy to read.:)
Anonymous
1st Nov 2014 5:20pm
Truly wonderful, I love how I can easily picture this in my mind excellent job
2nd Nov 2014 7:20am
I am happy you enjoyed my poem, Nightcore! I tend to write in a very vivid style, even when I am at my most surreal, so that no matter how dreamlike or vision-like the tone or quality of the poem... the events of the poem can still be pictured easily by the reader, which makes the poetry that much more easier to savor as well. :)
