#mystic
The pine stands upright, illuminating even at first sight.
It has not been planted; it has always been rooted.
The wind harasses its leaves, yet it feels affection.
The storm strikes its branches, yet it remains unfallen.
The spruces do not turn toward it; the pine watches them all from above.
It knows which is which, but it is known by none.
Its hollow is as large as the forest, a keeper of timeless legends.
Its roots are as old as the forest, covering the soil like tentacles.
It is nature’s impostor, and that is its sincerity.
It is nature’s protector, and that is its duty.
It is the mother, yet has never raised a fighter.
It is the father, yet has never had a daughter.
Its children have forgotten it; it still feeds them.
Its descendants have renounced it; it is still within their spirit.
The pine stands upright; even its posture lifts it to the summit.
It wonders without surprise whether one day the chosen one will see.
The one it chooses is the whole forest, everyone.
The one it means to choose is no one.
It does not wait; it keeps the depths for the select.
It flees into its labyrinth without hiding; the spruces do not know this is a test.
Away from its lost children, it leaves only flat ground on the surface.
Always their shadow, it keeps living in their hollow.
The pine still remembers it came from the spruce.
― Atrona Grizel
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 1:56 PM UTC
Solitude is not being alone; it is being the only one.
Expanding beyond the core, the single becomes everyone.
Solitude swallows boundaries, then gnaws at the edges of the self.
Yet only the edges disappear; one rules the core like a spear.
Only the self does not perish, and it conquers its vicinity.
It builds an empire beyond empires.
Imagination lifts the flesh and merges it with the heights.
Beyond the last obedient star, one traverses the voids.
It builds a full universe above the empty one.
It inhabits the cosmic infinite, incomprehensible to planetary life.
Solitude raises one toward the unseen, and renders one unreachable.
As secluded as a legend, it abandons one upon a mountain peak.
It educates without counsel, punishes without striking.
It is meticulous: one must surpass transcendence itself.
It teaches the taste of poetry, revealing its cold beauty.
It conquers the eyes, rendering all things with solemnity.
It locks the soul within this grandeur and strips away all vanity.
Silence, not of the soul but of the body.
The abyss devours the noisy
and answers without clamor,
with melodies no crowd can hear.
Solitude, not loneliness but sovereignty.
The hermit indicts the lonely
and immortalizes without brush,
with sceneries no herd can watch.
This mind is patient.
This heart is stubborn in its sentiment.
It lends nothing of itself away.
It allows none of its beliefs to sway.
Ancient before all things, it outlasts time.
Touching the world, it rewrites its essence.
Creating without possession, it is noble.
Possessing without creation, it is supreme.
Only the solitary spirit truly knows itself.
And every spirit that knows itself
remains alone with itself.
― Atrona Grizel
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 5:20 PM UTC
I stood at the center of the coven’s circle, flanked by my uncle and a friend of his who led the ritual. It wasn’t my choice. I had no choice.
They handed me an old, cracked book and told me to read an excerpt aloud. I refused at first, pleading, but they pressed on with the necromancy.
The air smelled of burning herbs and wet feathers. A **** was swung around me, its wings flapping against the cold night, before guttural words were muttered into the wind.
Then came the bath — water mixed with thick oil, sliced fruit, and other strange concoctions. The liquid clung to my skin like a second layer, its scent heavy and impossible to ignore. Fear shivered through me as the cold bit deep.
My uncle’s voice was low, each syllable vibrating in the stillness as he guided me through the reading. With every word, I felt an unseen weight coil tighter around my chest, tendrils winding around my heart.
They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I knew he had stepped onto it. The air felt charged, as if something ancient had stirred from a long, hateful sleep.
My mother stood outside the circle, her eyes fixed on me. They glowed with a strange light — not joy, not love, but a hunger I didn’t recognize. It was only then I realized there was a part of her I had never known. Her hands trembled slightly, not from cold, but from anticipation.
The ritual ended in silence. A silence so deep it pressed into my ears, whispering of secrets too heavy to name. I felt it before I saw it — an unnatural presence, cold and suffocating, curling at the edges of the shadows.
This isn’t over, something inside me whispered...
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 9:47 AM UTC
Concealed by celestial curtains
The muse’s somberly forgotten
And we ask for her albino-beauty
Left us yearning for the majestical polar crown
Shyly reminding us of other highness
While we behold her from the ground
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 9:45 AM UTC
Let
The freedom be autonomous
Inner peace sacred
Let them call you different
Being different makes you
"YOU"
Vibe alone
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 7:41 PM UTC
In this moving ocean of life, O’ Beloved, divine,
Thy lips have found mine, making them worthy of bliss most fine.
The tides that tossed my soul through shadow and despair,
Now bow to the calm, the light, the grace of thy care.
A heart once veiled in darkness, in chains of old night,
Now gleams with the gold of thy radiant light.
It wakes to Love’s eternal, unbroken decree,
The sacred song of fate, the key to set me free.
O’ trembling pulse, now pause, now rest,
For Destiny smiles where our fates are blessed.
The winds of chance, once wild, fierce, and austere,
Now whisper thy name with echoes sweet and clear.
The scattered stars of my lonely, restless night,
Align at last in the brilliance of thy sight.
In thy gaze, the world finds its gentle shore,
And in thy kiss, I am lost forevermore.
Each breath of thine is a song, a fire, a flame,
A melody that lifts my soul and calls my name.
O’ Beloved, in thee all doubts and fears are undone,
For thy love is the moon, the sun, and the rising sun.
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC
Love planted a rose, divine and fair,
And all existence burst with colours rare.
The world did bloom in radiance bright,
Its fragrance kissed both day and night.
Each soul did drink the shining stream,
And shadows fled, as from a dream.
The winds did whisper secrets fleet,
Where heaven and earth in rapture meet.
Petals of wonder, like stars, descend,
Perfuming silence where all spirits blend.
Time bowed before this rose’s reign,
And hearts did sing, released from pain.
O’ seeker, gaze upon the rose so rare,
Where love and eternity mingle in the air.
Dec 24, 2025
Dec 24, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
Breeze of a diaphragm
Blood’s warmed by unearthly nature
Stereo eruption of sweet magma
Bathing the soul in melodic fire
Dancing flames of mystic ardor
Unknown notes crooned the spell
An instrument eloquently in fervor
Etheric rhythms of the eternal
With the skies dimmed
An Universe wakes up within
Where nothingness is life
And fiery dreams truly real
Dec 17, 2025
Dec 17, 2025 at 12:06 PM UTC
The ocean of fireflies were flickering
in the dark woods beautifully.
The creatures were in deep slumber
snoring softly as always eventually.
The night sky carried out the soft
and beautiful cloulds.
The birds trustingly flying in groups
without making sounds.
Wholesome breezes flew through
the shores of the seas.
In the Earth's core, there laid
a millions of souls' hearts' keys.
The high mountains reaching the sky,
held mysterious secrets.
Just like the deep oceans which hold
many magical regrets.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 6:21 AM UTC
Before this fleeting age departs—
O’ let it blaze with joy in all my parts; let me arise anew.
Lift me toward the summit of Your grace,
O’ Cup-bearer, for Your path alone I’d give the world its due.
This wine is love’s eternal fire—O’ pour for me,
Twice fill the cup, O’ bearer of the soul’s decree:
One draught for the bloom of your rose-lit face,
The next for the Lord whose Name grants every grace.
May this poor heart, so restless in its quest,
At last be freed, fulfilled, and blessed—
To soar beyond the self, to all that is true.
Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 4:08 PM UTC
------------------------
Least said,
soonest mended, live and learn.
The mind convinced some supreme mind,
has forseen the end of all our sorrows and woes;
the gentle aspect of wisdom discerned
among the realists remaining spiritually bound
under baptism and naming and hazing
for sorting servile mind from master kind,
and so on,
life in mortal reality,
agents of ratios remaining constant,
take us, each, if I understand, the plea,
innocent, debt free, I just say it, so
all my debts are free, save one,
to master the act loving is,
in constant progress as
our process, envoking
being it self, whole mind behind the face
televized historical courtroom reality,
when the truth is shown,
to have been known,
you gotta find somebody to love
------------- oops,
this was on my clipboard,
thus was part of what was on my mind
In some Gnostic systems, the supreme being is known as the Monad, the One, the Absolute, Aiōn Teleos (the Perfect Aeon, αἰών τέλεος), Bythos (Depth or Profundity, Βυθός), Proarchē (Before the Beginning, προαρχή), Hē Archē (The Beginning, ἡ ἀρχή), the Ineffable Parent, and/or the Primal Father. The Monad is an adaptation of concepts of the monad in Greek philosophy to Christian belief systems.
Oct 16, 2025
Oct 16, 2025 at 5:09 PM UTC
With the meadows.. 🍃
And the shadows..
I enjoy the gentle breeze.. ☺️
With a bright shining ray of light..
And full of smiling blooms around.. 🌸
All that mesmerise me;
with its mystical ambience… 😍
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 3:36 AM UTC
The trees walk as the wind sings.
Traveling naked under the moonlight’s ring.
The scars gained are a reminder of what life can do.
Still in the battle with open wounds new.
Now I’m in control of the monster I was becoming.
Ive torn apart my fears no longer running.
The skin I was in never felt like mine.
I’m more sane when the beast uses my mind.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 11:49 PM UTC
We sat in tall grass overlooking a small pond,
Where tadpoles wriggled and ducks drifted, imagining a swan—
Dragonflies danced halos in the air—
My mind came back to those wings,
Those gentle wings, broken, fragile, in desperate need;
Breaking the idyllic silence, she hummed music from her earth,
From her clouds, her sun, her moon—
She knew she needed more than a friend,
So she dared to ask me, with audacity and mighty naivete
To follow her into the twilight's mist, to the nearest stardust outside of this galaxy
I had to refuse; I refused desperately, because,
“Fledgling, I am now a forgotten hermit
Who lives in ritual and sound, resonance and bells,
It is all I know, it is the lot I've been given,”
“Sweetling, my lost fawn, let me show you
The dewy keys of the beloved carillon
And I can play my lowly ode to you— you,
A monument in the collective consciousness—
To remember your sweet grace when you've flown back to your nest”
She, who didn’t speak but chirped,
Gripped my hands— nails of promethium; fingers refracted light—
And gazed into my open mind, my aching mind,
Brought her forehead to mine—
We kissed with poetry—
In a searching tone, I tried to convince her,
Through telekinetic whispers,
That we could stay like dragonflies skipping like stones over water,
Like swans in a feathered communion gliding over the pond;
I wanted to exist with her in a heart-locked hush
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 3:12 PM UTC
I see a golden autumn landscape.
All that remains is the black sun.
Its light extinguished, yet it illuminates the land with luscious fullness.
Withered leaves trickle down like golden rain, falling in deep devotion.
The gold-veiled goddess, her face black as shadow, proclaims the prayer of abomination —
that which remains beyond spirit,
eternal lust,
the driving force of all being.
She who walks the forbidden lands of knowing.
Who has ever touched her mystery?
Who has dared to see her fully?
Who has dared to praise her divinity?
May 15, 2025
May 15, 2025 at 4:10 PM UTC
Fall, fall
Fall into your own divinity
Seep into the sacredness of your soul
Your cells are dancing with the universe
Particles of you entangle with the creator
Release those tears
They are cleansing the energy of worlds
This moment is alchemy
When you connect with the supreme
You’re feeling your own majesty
Fall, fall
There is nowhere to fall
But home
Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 4:42 AM UTC
How thou art fallen, in darkness torn
That hath bound thee in endless mourn
Feelest how the moon drowns in sea
A song of vengeance, tenderly
Thou art in silence wearing souls
A sullen night where lone bells toll
Thy sorrow draped in veils so dark
Yet speaks wisdom as its art
Seek, o seek the path in dream,
As a dawn comes to redeem.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 3:50 AM UTC
The morning breeze, a whisper soft yet grand,
Carries secrets from a distant, unseen land.
It speaks of truths that shimmer, deep and bright,
That you are born from stars, an endless light.
In the silence of your soul, the cosmos swirls,
Unveiling all the power that within you curls.
You are not mere flesh, but spirit's boundless flight,
A mystic force that dances through the night.
The world may tremble, yet you stand unbowed,
For in your heart, you wear the sky as your shroud.
Recognise your essence, feel its endless grace,
For in your soul, the universe finds its place.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 7:14 PM UTC
O’ Thou, if You unveil Yourself before thee,
What a merciful moment, a fleeting eternity,
In that moment, all that is,
Would dissolve into the oneness of bliss.
Oceans would rise,
Not as waves, but as divine sighs,
Dancing in Your intoxication,
Lost in the ecstasy of creation.
Every heart would pour,
Like a sea with no shore,
For in Your presence, the self dissolves,
And only love in pure form evolves.
Thy gaze, O’ how mystic it would be,
An eye that sees both You and me,
Beyond form and time’s illusion,
A timeless truth, in perfect fusion.
In Your glance, the secret unfurls,
The infinite wisdom of hidden pearls,
O’ Thou, if You unveil Yourself,
The universe would be but Your mirror,
Reflecting the beauty of your pure self.
In the whisper of Your being, we hear,
The silence where all wisdom is clear,
Where the seeker and the sought become one,
And the heart beats to the rhythm of the sun.
O’ Thou, in Your unveiling, there is no fear,
Only the absence of the ‘I’ drawn near,
And in that sacred space we find,
The truth that has always lived within our mind.
For You are the lover, the Beloved, the flame,
We are but sparks, seeking the same,
And in Your unveiling, we see the divine,
As the soul’s journey merges with the sublime.
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 7:26 AM UTC
Epiphanies on Woman as Divine Love Incarnate
by Hildegard von Bingen
Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179), also known as the Sibyl of the Rhine and Hildegardis Bingensis, was a German christian mystic who had visions of the Love of God beginning at age three. She was a German Benedictine abbess and polymath: a poet, writer, songwriter, composer, philosopher and medical writer/practitioner. remains one of the best-known composers of sacred monophony, as well as the most recorded in modern history. She has been considered by scholars to be the founder of scientific natural history in Germany and perhaps the first notable environmentalist as well. She wrote poems and song lyrics in Latin.
These translations are dedicated to the most loving of mothers, my praiseworthy wife Beth.
“Every good mother is the embodiment of Love.”—Michael R. Burch
“Cry out, therefore, and compose!”—Hildegard von Bingen, Scivias, translation by Michael R. Burch
HILDEGARD VON BINGEN TRANSLATIONS
I behold you,
noble, glorious and complete Woman,
locus of innocence and purity,
the Sacred Matrix
in whom God delights.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “Ave, generosa” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
You appeared as a luminous white lily,
as God imagined You eons before Creation,
requiring Creation.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “Ave, generosa” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now in her
lovingkindness, the deepest tenderness,
abounds for all,
from the Least
to the most Eminent
of those abiding beyond the stars!
—Hildegard von Bingen, “Caritas abundat” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Exquisitely loving All,
she bequeaths the kiss of peace
upon both Pauper and King.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “Caritas abundat” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Fashioned by God’s fingertips,
made in the image of God,
Height of Creation, held
within a womb of mingled blood,—
though heiress to Adam's exiled wanderings,
still the elements rejoiced to behold You,
O praiseworthy Woman,
as the heavens illumed
and thundered with praise at Your birth!
—Hildegard von Bingen, *** processit factura” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A once-closed portal has been reopened
in the wise Woman
now revealed to us,
for the Flower of Creation
blossoms sun-bright in the dawn.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “Hodie aperuit” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O blessed child,
the Chosen One,
whom God so inspired.
that in time your sacred womb
produced the manifestations of God,
wafting like the gentlest scents
of frankincense, lavender and rose.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “O beata infantia” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O glittering starlight,
O most brilliant, exceptional figure
of the royal marriage,
O bright-faceted gem,
arrayed like a Queen
without flaw ...
You have become an angel's consort
and a priestess of sacredness.
Flee the ancient destroyer's dungeon!
Take your rightful place in the palace of the King.
—Hildegard von Bingen, “O choruscans lux stellarum” translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Keywords/Tags: Hildegard von Bingen, English translations, Latin poems, mystic, god, love, woman, womanhood, women, Divine Feminine, mother, son, Mary, Jesus
Feb 10, 2025
Feb 10, 2025 at 8:20 AM UTC
Behold my soul,
both meek and bold
A story of love,
yet untold
I am but dust,
and you the sky
In your embrace,
I live and die.
Jan 25, 2025
Jan 25, 2025 at 2:28 PM UTC