Testament

 

I shall tell you the story I solemnly swore

To bury in my breast till Death’s icy breath

Soaked my feet cold and withered my strength

And the midnight breeze and the winter chill

Stripped the leaves off the trees and my heart made still.

I have fed on flowers and have walked alone.

On quicksilver feet my light has flown over horizonless meadows of bleak unknown.

I shall tell you about the eyeless creature

Who has bound all men with golden chains,

Who dies in light and in darkness reigns,

Who schools all fools with sacred rules,

Who stands without legs and outstretches a hand

With four fingers that form the door to the cathedral of the whore,

That accursed abode of filthiness and perpetual darkness

Called chateau de bete noire by those who have trod its wastelands

And returned to speak of snowless mountains,

Of barren ground by bloody fountains.

I have been it’s guest in decrepit and moldy dungeons

But immortality shall be my vengeance.

And how to rightly place the glory?

Proclaim to patriarch and plebian the story of how the spear

To pierce the aura of fate, on the day of Venus placed,

Sent one man to a borrowed grave

And Spiritus Mundi through Virtue was saved.

Padlocks of lead and iron kept me prisoner in the creature’s hall.

Yet with the seven sounds of Virtue’s song,

Anael gave me power to topple the walls.

Yes, Seeker,  your light and mine together belong,

But the trees of night and time must fall

And in eternal day our light shall shine

From the Sun of Love with rays sublime.

The hands of time point out this hour for the lightning to devour

The trinity of blasphemy, the crown of the tower,

Where Antichrist sifts heads and hands of the masses like saltless sands

And mills the rabble like obedient cattle to number them with the god of battle.

He stands on corners with bells to summon the blind to the gates of hell.

I have watched the priests of his women bless the weapons of religion

With the sprinkling of iron waters.

Now like a sculptor unveiling an image I reveal the creature of my tale

In all gruesome detail: he is the king of hell.

His home is plastic and foam.

Built with shadows he calls it white and exalts it in the endless night,

Whispering in the ears of men that God will see all things to condemn

All deeds of men but in the end we find the voice of Society to be

The creature who will not leave us free but invents the word of sin.

It spawns Pharisees who say they are sons of God but snakes they are.

In chapels of idolatry the corners are kept free from dust

And the pews are built with boards of lust.

The floor is an abyss the worshipers would fill

With Mammon’s blood and paper gut.

Oh surely the day will come without fail when all that is false will disperse,

Like smoke that dissolves in the air, only goldlike Truth will prevail.

The Council of the seven churches commands

That the scroll be unrolled and extolled to the world.

I have lived my life like the ordinary man that I am

But twenty-two years ago today as I stand

I saw a window in the sky from which a shining bird did fly

And sailed the starry heavens in the twinkling of an eye.

I saw it explode in crimson hues of glows.

With these brown eyes I saw the red wheel explode

And the bright beams filled the sky with streams of fiery fingers

Like the terrors in dreams and they probed the depth of my being.

Flames of psychic fighters with the burning touch of spiders,

Thoughts of astral fire more consuming than desire.

Then the ashes of dissolved resolution were blended by the summer breeze

And their singularity ended with elemental ease.

The fingers dragged forth that miserable creature

Of foul thought and far worse feature

Who fell upon the earth to slay the witnesses of Justice in one day,

They who were and are sent to announce the long awaited knowledge,

To the chosen higher ones who initiate the revolution and thus spread

The secret doctrine for the kingdom is at hand

And give living water to those who dare to understand.

 

Vicente Reyes

circa 1977

 

 

Internet source: http://www.thepoetsdiary.com/ 

©2000, 2006 For the World by Vicente Reyes, All Rights Reserved

First North American Serial Rights Available

e-mail vicentereyes@yahoo.com 

May be reprinted freely for personal review or academic discussion