DEUS ABSCONDITUS.

Early Christian baptismal Font for raising the dead

on the eighth Day of resurrection into New Life.

"The octagon is raised for a sacred purpose for which the octagonal Font

is also worthy, for this number eight aptly signs the sacred baptistery in which

the people are raised to true health, restored by the light of the Risen Christ

who unlocks the gates of death and raises the dead from the grave."

Saint Ambrose, 4th century.

Eighth Day of of the Octagonal Sun.

~

I'm whited-out by Deus absconditus,

stuck in Limbo as each day starts;

but my Observer is stronger than ever,

pushing through this Wall of Father.

~

White-Light at the end of Darkness,

Mater into Pater by apotheosis;

distilling Wine, baking risen Bread,

the octagonal Sun in my voided Head.

~

Ogdoad of the primordial elements,

into a trinity of shining Metals;

each new day becomes the eighth Day,

the resurrection of my Imago Dei.

~

The Pearly Gates are never locked,

there is no boundary for us to cross;

just an "Angel with a fiery sWord",

libidinal sublimation of id Idealized.

~

"Cloud of Unknowing" in which to find

the peace of God inside my Mind;

final baptism in the Font eternal,

the Page of the Word octagonal.

~

Seven colours plus Light beyond,

the Totality of Allness and One.

If omniscience belongs to God alone,

in whose Knowing am I now undone?

~*~

Deus Absconditus?

And the Meaning of God.

~

God abstracts into Nothingness,

beyond the stories that sustain us;

deeper than gods and their myths,

how to integrate this eternal Abyss?

~

Life's narrative upon the Page ends.

I feel whited-out, how to continue on?

Where's the meaning to be drawn out?

God is the Canvas of great doubt!

~

Mater was full of chaotic potential,

Isis unveiled becomes transcendental.

Pater is the "Cloud of Unknowing";

I must extract one hidden Meaning?

~

Thus far I have mixed my palette,

developed a picture of my Subject;

forged a "Helmet of Salvation",

distilled Holy Wine and baked a Sun.

~

I become a co-creator in the end,

this is the secret I must now learn;

from this Point it's all up to me,

to paint whatever meaning I please.

~

God is the Canvas of this Page,

Still for Movement's quantum Wave;

birthing the WavIcle of I AMness,

the Pen of my dragon's apotheosis.

~*~

Holy Blood leavens the golden Flesh in the eternal

and archetypal structure of the quantum Mind.

This Book of Heaven and My Quantum Pen.

~

I feel abstracted into God's Page,

whited-out into the Canvas of Ages;

the Book of Heaven before my Eye,

for the co-creation of eternal Life.

~

I must learn to write anew again,

with the golden Nib of my silver Pen;

co-creating by conscious dreaming,

like thinking in the human kingdom.

~

Symbolic imagination is the language,

for spelling the spells of images;

each Imago Dei holds wavy fluidity,

Spirit for a Magi, the Ink of Blood.

~

Every child is a natural artist born,

we "must become like little children";

in the Field of one God, playing again:

painting, dancing, quantum dreaming.

~

Human thoughts last a hundred years,

Maat's feather for an eternity writes.

PenDragon collapses at any Point,

upon this Page of ENLIGHTENMENT.

~*~

Archetypal Light of the Sun in the diffuse Light

of the Father, with Love of Dark Mater red~shifted,

and the bounded Soul fixed in the Over-Soul.

Maat's Feather of Truth.