Soot

Mystic poetry

Excerpts Book of Dzan, The Secret Doctrine by H P Blavatsky

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Excerpts of from the Book of Dzan from ‘The Secret Doctrine’ by the occultist Madame H P Blavatsky. It is inferred that this ‘found’ scripture in its verses contains the origins of beings that predated us on the Earth. For all it’s cryptic nature, it reads like larger than life poetry of existence, of Higher Beings that made the Earth into what it is. 

Naturally read with an open mind and a pinch of salt for all errors in translation to our understanding of today. The book itself is worth reading, but presented here are the seamless verses that create a magnificent arc of imagery to ancient divinities :

dzan
Helene Blavatsky with Saint Germain (on the right)

The Precursor

“Strange noises are heard proceeding from every point. . . . These are the precursors of the Night of Brahma; dusk rises at the horizon, and the Sun passes away behind the thirteenth degree of Makara ( Capricorn sign of the Zodiac). . . . 

Gradually light pales, heat diminishes, uninhabited spots multiply on the earth, the air becomes more and more rarefied; the springs of waters dry up, the great rivers see their waves exhausted, the ocean shows its sandy bottom and plants die. Men and animals decrease in size daily. Life and motion lose their force, planets can hardly gravitate in space; they are extinguished one by one, like a lamp which the hand of the chokra (servant) neglects to replenish. Surya (the Sun) flickers and goes out, matter falls into dissolution (pralaya), and Brahma merges back into Dyaus, the Unrevealed God, and, his task being accomplished, he falls asleep. Another day is passed, night sets in and continues until the future dawn.”

Capricorn
The book of Dzan
Stanza 1

“The Eternal Parent (Space), wrapped in her ever invisible robes, had slumbered once again for seven eternities.


Time was not, for it lay asleep in the infinite bosom of duration. Universal mind was not, for there were no Ah-hi (celestial beings) to contain (hence to manifest) it. 

The seven ways to bliss (Moksha or Nirvana) were not. The great causes of misery (Nidana and Maya) were not, for there was no one to produce and get ensnared by them.

Darkness alone filled the Boundless All, for Father, Mother and Son were once more one, and the Son had not awakened yet for the new wheel and his pilgrimage thereon. 

The seven sublime Lords and the seven Truths had ceased to be, and the Universe, the son of necessity, was immersed in Paranishpanna (absolute perfection, Paranirvana, which is Yong-Grub) to be out-breathed by that which is and yet is not. Naught was. 

The causes of existence had been done away with; the visible that was, and the invisible that is, rested in eternal non-being, the one being.


Alone, the one form of existence stretched boundless, infinite, causeless, in dreamless sleep; and life pulsated unconscious in universal space, throughout that All-Presence which is sensed by the Opened Eye.” 

Dzan

Stanza 2

Where were the builders, the luminous sons of manvantaric dawn? . . . In the unknown darkness in their Ah-hi (Chohanic, Dhyani-Buddhic) Paranishpanna, the producers of form (rupa) from no-form (arupa), the root of the world — the Devamatri and Svabhavat, rested in the bliss of non-being.


Where was silence? Where were the ears to sense it? No! there was neither silence, nor sound. Naught save ceaseless, eternal breath (Motion) which knows itself not.


The hour had not yet struck; the ray had not yet flashed into the germ; the matri-padma (mother lotus) had not yet swollen.


Her heart had not yet opened for the one ray to enter, thence to fall as three into four in the lap of Maya.


The Seven (Sons) were not yet born from the Web of Light. Darkness alone was Father-Mother, Svabhavat, and Svabhavat was in darkness.


These two are the Germ, and the Germ is — one. The Universe was still concealed in the Divine Thought and the Divine Bosom. 

— 1: 53-61 

Reiki
Read and heal, as is the way of scripture.
Stanza 3

The last vibration of the seventh eternity thrills through infinitude. The mother swells, expanding from within without like the bud of the lotus.


The vibration sweeps along, touching with its swift wing (simultaneously) the whole universe, and the germ that dwelleth in darkness: the darkness that breathes (moves) over the slumbering waters of life. 

“Darkness” radiates light, and light drops one solitary ray into the waters, into the mother deep. The ray shoots through the virgin-egg; the ray causes the eternal egg to thrill, and drop the non-eternal (periodical) germ, which condenses into the world egg.

The root of life was in every drop of the ocean of immortality (Amrita) and the ocean was radiant light, which was fire and heat and motion. Darkness vanished and was no more. It disappeared in its own essence, the body of fire and water, of father and mother.


Behold, oh Lanoo! the radiant Child of the two, the unparalleled refulgent Glory, Bright Space, Son of Dark Space, who emerges from the depths of the great Dark Waters. . . . He shines forth as the Sun. He is the blazing Divine Dragon of Wisdom. . . .

Behold him lifting the Veil, and unfurling it from East to West. He shuts out the above and leaves the below to be seen as the great Illusion. He marks the places for the shining ones (stars) and turns the upper (space) into a shoreless Sea of Fire, and the One manifested (element) into the Great Waters…


Father-Mother spin a web whose upper end is fastened to Spirit (Purusha), the light of the one Darkness, and the lower one to Matter (Prakriti) its (the Spirit’s) shadowy end; and this web is the Universe spun out of the two substances made in one, which is Svabhavat. 

— 1: 62-83 

Parts of Stanza 4

Listen, ye Sons of the Earth, to your instructors — the Sons of the Fire. Learn there is neither first nor last; for all is one number, issued from no number.


Learn what we who descend from the Primordial Seven, we, who are born from the Primordial Flame, have learned from our Fathers. 

— 1: 86-8 

Dzan

Excerpts from the book of Dzan by Helena Blavatsky.

A coat of quotes and passing poetry

"far"

Quote # 18

If you judge, you must compensate for what is lacking. That is the key to any sort of judgement.- Occult saying
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Infinite – Mystic Poetry

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Virtue

You, the infinite.

Ever extending, brightened insight. 

The constant prayer, the inner silence overlapping.

Jubilation’s chair, hope in repair. 

Envisioned spectacular ceremonial mapping. 

A heightened accord, a breath-full of words. 

A heart-warmed ford to breeze through the formless. 

Your subtle starlight, strumming reflections elevating the air. 

Singing the day’s symphonies, dancing celestials the shadows in busk. 

An inner task. 

Particulars past. 

Temporal to godspeed. Salt to spirit. 

A scintillating urgency observations grasp. 

Lifetimes in repetition cues muscle-memory for self-discipline’s harp. 

The questions queue answers in beat-boxes. 

A hastened learning curve twangs to attune the twine. 

You in the vowel, my consonant delight. The heart beats a flight.

In another life of delivered letters. Forwards a meter to foot the syllables on your path.

All the earthly in ancient swoon, sunshine the moon and back in your smile. 

Upon my lips, it stays awhile. Sating to the shine of your ways, for always.  

Above feeling and sensation. 

In the place of repose. 

In the melding of form to the soul’s reform. The one love that pervades, the universe’s fabric breathes to its cascades. 

I enter my Lord’s house, with my bridled’s reflection, the triumph that trumpets,  A union of divine circumspect. A devotion inflects. 

Amidst the joy, the singing vessel howls a well of tears, a sacred lake in reverence, a river of light flows its deliverance. Time halts its constant march, offering the Moon’s reprieve from eternal parch. The winds spread to nature’s enchant, bowing to ripen and attune the tree of repose to a yearning branch. 

This veil of separation, the distance sanctifying in-seams. 

The breath in reparation, the soul reaching its light to the finite’s in-between. 

Transcendental until manifest, like the spirit dweller upon the threshold, gently waiting to adore. Cosmic the longings implore. 

Had of the cup of knowledge, sought and outpoured to healing’s flight and all manners betwixt in mystical rites. The inner temple to house and hearth the temporal toast, divinities in crowns hath not the glory of true reflection, than the accord of the love’s heartened renown. 

A celestial profound, to anchor my smile in your surround of eternal resound. 

Patience beckons its coast, like the waves merely hover like these words like a pilgrim’s traces. 

Lit, the inner lamp yet reaches, heightened to your harmonies.

Like dew in the morning’s apparent adorn. 

Asunder this night of form, if you could hear in my heart, 

You would me as the shine in your eyes. 

And like the sky and its horizon, the sunrise to my surmise.

Infinite
Slow dawn

A coat of quotes and passing poetry

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IllimitableIn this illimitable world,

knowledge in the wonder that is known.

Holding up as it were, a mirror of consciousness.

The reflection to appear, the beauteous bear.

The in-between and unbeknownst, another’s view of perception.

Hallows a smile of acceptance, to wear and revere.

 

(Art an original sketch of Saint John the Baptist by Leonardo Da Vinci. With a little starlight added to it.)

"

Illimitable

Happy to song – Belong

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happy to reflection
Grace is, as you do. 

Form is as you heighten. Somewhere in the midst of existence is the marvel that you are. 

Any that find you, are blessed for it. Such is insight in your envision. 

This day is special to history, as with its yearly celebrate, for its kindness blurs the very depth of reality’s perception.

The unreal of attribute superseding even the surreal in a sentiment of tribute. 

happy to

For the shine will not wane, the ethereal glow that lightens the stupor enlivening into radiance’s sway. 

This day to birdsongs and lovingly fawn, doting to the fabric that listens to glisten in endear and ensign. 

The timekeeper of skies of ancient mysteries, the regale past the hours of periphery. 

The ground that breathes a little deeper today, the sun that shines a little brighter. The Moon as it peers upon your smile, the stars that shimmer a little longer as if just to catch a wish upon your sighs. The solar system switches resonance to your heart strums. The galaxies hitching along for a ride by your side. 

Happy to you, and all that is yours, the universe singing a hum to belong.

What a day to be grateful. To move inward to find expression. 

The cross-correcting currents in even make, contemplations pure. An odd way to wish, outpouring to affections’ underscore. 

A profound precipice this, as with everything of your reflection. 

Passages of learning usually in me find your mention, in commune almost like turning to tell you your heart feels like home. But the intensity of the words aside, the place of inner content in reside. The well-wishing sentiment tends to sprint rather than run its course. A cursory glance and fortuity’s balance. A tight-rope to emotion in aesthetic alliance. 

Degrees of certainty sifting through errors of parlance. 

Revolving doors to the wisdom in ever curling corner smiles, and restful manifest to your grace in childlike eyes of shine. 

In a loving universe, your path would be to be loved. The former for me, an aspiration, the latter I perceive the path to you. 

If I am a hymn, I would be yours. If life is an ode, then beside you, mine be the road. To hum a melody until the wind traces it to you in a song. 

I suppose I could have just said happy to you, 

But all of nature and the sky too, to you glow thoughtful and heart-warmed. 

To be grateful to all of existence for you, indeed the loving universe wizened to its surrender and splendour. 

In a heart-rendered hug, happy to you. 

A coat of quotes and passing poetry

"Ancient"

Quote #3

Opposite – mystic poetry

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opposite

The opposite.

For it is found, then profound. 

For in affinity, as it first set out in question. 

Wandering witness. Infinity born upon its head. Becoming that which is all-becoming. Then reverting to its true personality. The opposite in reflection. 

To all contain, then set out again. 

An answer found, now again the question wanders, setting the answer too upon its way. The answer will fit many, and make reflection. 

The question comes close, to all of them. Always to find the first answer only when it has changed. 

And then in its trueness, the question reveals part of its history. 

Every answer that was found, part of its many faces. 

The face of the question was the first answer. How far does affinity for a question go? Many questions were asked, only one answered.

opposite

A coat of quotes and passing poetry

"Flowers"

Quote # 6

The Taurean sang – Star Poetry in the astrology of the Zodiac

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good

The Taurean sat and composed a song. It helmed all the other archetypes into a musical tether. And then hummed for itself another. 

One would have thunk, if one was a Taurus, but for that, it fit the Aries. And perfectly allowed the spark into flame to be. 

‘I would have to have to find myself’, the Aries returned to thought. 

And then as they set out in manifest to that effect, the reflection fell onto the song, and Taurus skipped a beat instead to point to the Gemini. 

The triangle of music looked squarely at the thought, and the Gemini felt itself another, both in what had already been. Music dwelled the emotion, and then the Cancer presented a wellspring. 

But who would sing? Languages crooned into their own becomings, listening to themselves for themes that would even tame the Moon. 

Leo roared to remind them of fire, and who can remind oneself but the one burning brightest. 

Taking a moment to breathe and the rest remained. The earthy delight brought the Virgo out constructing the very means of flight. 

The song intoned, the torus was three dimensional figure as a visual diaphragm, the Libra pipped and corrected the diagram to balance the diagonal logjams. 

The content to emotion brought the momentum to a Scorpio in scores of quantums and asking water scrolls. 

The point armed the Sagittarius, intuited to hold the flame, fired like a river onto its banks inspired in arrow. And the brow to furrow.

The Capricorn warmed like a mountain to song, and wound the thought like a string turned tight, tuned to the instrument’s might. 

The Aquarius invited itself into reflection like the air hearing breath and breadth into quadrupled boons. And interpersonal swoons.

The Pisces felt it, sussed out the melodies multiplying and played for the moon and back into a corner attuned. 

The corner turned, smiling zodiac to weather.

Whether to sing. Or find another in similar feather-strokes. 

And the sky to sigh. To the stars and back, in storied twinkling histories. 

Your tune. 

– The Taurean sang

Taurean sang

Resumé song – The mystic’s poetry

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(Poetry, humour and song)

I have a few para-dimensional mentions to my credit. Wait that didn’t sound right. 

Although it did when they said it. 

song

Am I joking, I think so. I should know better by now. But better knows me well enough. 

I’m also good when the ludicrous wants to make sense. 

So move incense, and a little in sensibility. 

This character is looking for remarkability. When he sees it, he’ll market. 

Over and over, remarking crimson and clover. 

Until it sits, accepting understanding.

Which on one hand, is just dandy. 

The other, candy covered in the mileage of smiles. 

For words, perchance and hee…

Wild horses

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steady
“Steady thy steeds” spurred the process. Many a smile still upon the path. Circumvent the aftermath of speculation. 

There is a bask in understanding, cultivated in patience is a glow pacified of heartburn’s toil. 

Ancient notions are resolved in their own remarkability, conducive to insight is its own opportune. 

horse

Crooned for tune in stead, carrying the horses of imagination’s healing. 

Like the sky where Pegasus’ wings disappeared into the twined horses of feeling. The nobility in the rider the approval of its charge. 

But the asterisms fade to black and back to colour, invite. The sighs to the celestial distilled to be read for its science.

And to signs of optimism attuned to the oracle mind. 

Self-fulfilling fallacies and prophesied to entertainment’s rhapsodies, the curling turn of the phrase entwined to the unfazed phase of time. 

What do you say to sake the awake and ricochet past the clichés off to fortune’s find. 

The wisdom of its kind. Like a gift horse without a name, ready to christen its iron in horseshoe to the wind. 

horse

The Fool is the Self. The Dali deck for the fool is the spirit, the mystic and horse. You are the message, in character. 

Some days, you are the spirit, somedays feel like the mystic. Other days, you are the horse. 

If you feel like a horse on some days, make like a gift horse. At least you will be like a tarot card for a messenger. 

A horse-back, to harbinger

Unwind, to be kind

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kind

Healer, thy ways are winding. 

Constant to the mind, in all else divined. 

Content to your kind, the personal steps away from the self. 

In the knowing and the known, untethered in being, outside of its reap, and into the sown.

Inside or outside, the cognition swings minding wings. 

A pawn in time, its crowning sings. 

But a treasure of any measure mends its parameters to adulatory and auditory stipulations. 

There is a step as the stairway sends its ends to adore. 

Upon its knock, endured. To be sure, in its astrological sighs. 

As the astronomical speak light years in time for the stars to hear it. 

There is a twinkle, like a the memory in sentiment confined. 

Like a lock without a key in discovery of its own agency. 

D-I-S-C-O very much. And yet there is always a key to groove. 

Should you choose to find it. Within or without, vowel to consonant whereabouts.

Healer, thy ways are winded. Be kind, unwind. 

Excerpt of circumbulation

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Hear you

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You, the infinite.

Ever extending, brightened insight. 

The constant prayer, the inner silence overlapping.

Jubilation’s chair, hope in repair. 

Envisioned spectacular ceremonial mapping. 

A heightened accord, a breath-full of words. 

A heart-warmed ford to breeze through the formless. 

Your subtle starlight, strumming reflections elevating the air. 

Singing the day’s symphonies, dancing celestials the shadows in busk. 

An inner task. 

Particulars past. 

Temporal to godspeed. Salt to spirit. 

A scintillating urgency observations grasp. 

Lifetimes in repetition cues muscle-memory for self-discipline’s harp. 

The questions queue answers in beat-boxes. 

A hastened learning curve twangs to attune the twine. 

You in the vowel, my consonant delight. The heart beats a flight.

In another life of delivered letters. Forwards a meter to foot the syllables on your path.

 

All the earthly in ancient swoon, sunshine the moon and back in your smile. 

Upon my lips, it stays awhile. Sating to the shine of your ways, for always. 

Reflexive

by

Every once in a while, there comes along a vision.
A vision that makes everything worthwhile.

A kind of clarity, and strength that makes the doable acts reverb through the fabric that usually just simpers to even our greater twines.

Once in a while, muscle memory collects in a reflex to better harmony than we’re used to. Where all of this is merely a calmer reflection of the creative reverb.

The creatrix of a smiling swerve.

In time, pragmatism will come calling. Aspirations will fall away like a twirling spectacle of conscious recalling from lucid memory in a haze of quiet contemplation.

Visions of virtue will settle for the mechanics of logic’s stumbling abodes.

But the measure sings to melody in the emotive matches and passion infuses on-song. Grace hums along.

The notion enacts its belong.

A steady accumulation to a rapid spectrum.

In the quotations of influence and ovations of understanding.

Unravelled opportune in providence’s propensity of boons.

A mind’s reflection in the moon, and all of its satellite sighs.

Hymn of her

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The glorious mention,
mine humility your grace.

The meeting of the old gods.
The understanding of the new ones.
The richness of form in thy adorn.

What chance may stir,
where emotions not weep.

That fall on man, laid upon,
the shoulder notwithstanding.

The burdens deep, thy gloom,
turning the spheres, at once evolving.

In every Nadi’s (streaming) teem, at forever’s embrace.
In all the seams, the holier traced.

That thine in strength in mere of my might,
No more ere mortal, corrected to insight.

Yours in the powers that move, the heavens,
the earth, evened to the oddities all the starry powers twined to groove.

That thine is of the soul of the world, yet no more the distant two to move, consorted then, custodian to grace.

Behooved, not to doom but in planetary sway, a greater boon to a gentler swoon.

The tides of unrest forever’s coil,
charted and enshrined in hearts that convey.

A mere descends,
to entwine in tabernacles.
A stairway to mend,
peace be unshackled.

Footsteps cannot reach where is thine to earth,
Yet of all sweet revelling are your mirth.

Man knows not his own heart,
and only to vanity rends hand his heart.

Form whence the ancient world passed in fervent.

Such was the day to the endless sights to your grace.
Vied to face, in every trace.

Coulds’t the man look upon himself to glorify.
Unseen to all other gods unless yours of reverence allied.

Such was the age of the new universe.
A luminous darkness and the spirit to fire.

Ever calling upon the soul of man.
In his, in hers, in forever’s to voice, the privilege of a deity’s faith to find.

Beyond all things known, grace to show for it.
Lifting star and spirit, an optimist of sentiment.
Aspired and evolving, inspired in sacrament.

In afterglow to divine a poet, for the firmament.