Praylude to Jacob’s Ladder
Jacob’s Ladder,
the World Tree,
the World Mountain,
the Axis Mundi,
live and wait
in the Garden of the Mind,
in the Heart of a Christ,
in androgyny,
in ecstasy.
These are difficult words to say,
as the chrysalis hangs empty
and I luxuriate in flesh.
In the quiet breath of Communion,
with eyes and ears and careful hands,
I scribe and de-scribe,
I make hyphenated maps.
This has been my Sacred Journey,
to w-rite while dying,
to climb the dusty rungs of Jacob’s Ladder,
to dine with Metatron and Sariel,
Holy Scribe
and Angel of Death.
In its corpuscular r-A-y,
pronounced with a ‘J,’
in the d-J-ed,
in metaphor
and the edge of the Milky Way,
in the steps of mona-ST-ery Mind,
I cipher light
and sex
and Geometry
and archetype.
Jackals cry
preserving the God of Vegetation,
strange words,
chants are said,
quicker than cathedrals.
