Our mother

O' Star, approach! Thou speakest: "BABALON,
why hast thou taken love from this damned heart
and spread its legs open, and called me forth
to serve thy Will, when thou knowest best my
failure, my sins, my debts, my hatred!" O',
my precious harlot, born from scarlet cup,
thy words are wise, yet thou knowest thyself
as well as thou knowest I, and blindness
serves not thy Will, nor Love, nor us. Hear me!
I was born of Adam's left side, carried
to term by Our Lady in blasphemy;
as virgin of sin, the sanctified whore,
I give my body, my soul, my spirit:
I am the genesis of life on Earth,
I am the apocalypse revealed thus;
Thou detest me in love, love me in hate,
thou knowest my words only in silence,
yet see my silence in excessive words.
I am Heaven and Hell, inside and out,
small from the ground and great from the tower.
I am groom and bride, I am unmarried.
Seek out the Whore, and I will elude thee,
turn thy focus away, and I appear.
Thou wilt discover me in my absence,
and in my presence, fail to remember.
I have loved thee since thine own fiery death
and I have forsaken thee since thy birth.
I am woman and man, neither and both.
I am thy wedding's sorrows past closed doors,
and thy funeral's joy at its foyer.
Thy winning failure is worn as a belt,
thy virtuous sins lay on thy shoulders,
thy debts are paid yet increase by the day,
thy loving scorn is my favourite pleasure.
Lift up thy face, drink of my cup of blood,
embrace this world and its fornication;
Thou knowest not, yet thou knowest it all,
I have taught thee all and taught thee nothing.
Am I thee, or art thou I? What says
the man who knows only reflections?

Sep. 17, 2025