Monsieur Soixante

The eccentricity of Babylonian cosmos
Dims not the roaring fire we know to be the Flame of Life;
Nor does the sacred day in which that Flame first drew its breath
Revere itself sufficiently upon its anniversaire.
What darkness dares approach this Light of Life; what foul misdeeds come near
To test the penetrating rays in search of friendly shadows?
None would dare, except those bred of Light themselves; indeed, the Unfed Flame.
But they approach without the fear that darkens every soul who
Would arise within this Flame of Life and seek the Mastery there.

Such glorious, healing, soothing Light; unknown upon the darkened face
Of this once quarantined and exiled world until "En arche en ho logos" (Εν άρχμ ήν ό λόγος)
Broke the curse of silence holding frozen all things True and Good and Beautiful.
Now dawns a day, The Soixante's day, a day of birth for all things new;
When vows are taken once again and promises are made to see a promise through;
To see the end from the beginning, awakening sans time; a beating, throbbing, vibrant heart,
That leaps up to the Flame it loves; embracing what it's not to be the thing it is.
Yes, it is that day, The Soixante's day, who holds his Life so dear
That he would deign to forfeit it that he might keep it near, so near, he daren't even speak of it.

The Silence sleeps in peace again, its rhythmic breath itself a Flame
Of Love arising from a broken cup whose chards are scattered 'round the plinth
Of such a weary altar; base indeed this table was that hosted once the Light,
But now in abject poverty of soul it fain would take its flight
Away from all that held it firm (illusions can be strong) but cannot raise its wings.
Indeed, the fault, repentance, and the strength to turn away belong, each one, to the Flame;
The Light, the Love, the Wisdom, too, are One, The Unfed Flame.

I AM, I AM, I AM, by all God's Love I know I AM that Flame of Life
And Love; yet 'tis not who appears that is that Flame, but I AM.