Phillip Medhurst

Conceived immaculate, I nonetheless

Wished for a thing exclusive to myself,

And so I exercised effective will,

With freedom to elect as I desired.

Engend’ring Self, therefore, I hatched a god

Out of the womb of all that made me “me.”

But who I willed was not immaculate:

He marred the vision I had once enjoyed

While contemplating all reality.

He gazed at his reflection on The Deep,

And when he saw it, thought that it was good,

And said, “I AM. There is no god but me.”

I heard the idol’s bombast. In this way

I knew what kind of thing the upstart was,

So turned again in sorrow to my Source,

And caught a spark which turned to living flame

Fed by the fuel of Love. That fire took shape,

And all religion tries to emulate

Appeared. No seeing eye could ever then resist

The Light transcending every faculty

By which these words are imaged on true hearts:

“The One is one (there is no other One) –

Unsigned in any mortal register,

And self-subsistent, without any peer.

Thus none can speak of One except this Word

Proceeding from the Gnosis – I am He.”

On meeting Matter’s realm this testament

Fell to The Deep as incandescent drops

Into that space and time where nature’s laws

Are fetters from which none can be exempt.

 Yet what descended still remains unquenched

Although bemired within this tomb of clay:

Knowing the beginning and the end,

From whence it came, and whither it must go.

A distant beacon for that Light, I send

What light I have, what wisdom I dare show.