Category: Fragments
When the night has folded the world into its silent cloak, a tremor may traverse the soul: shivering that begins somewhere deeper, where absence whispers and memory is in embers. Delirium tremens, in the language of physicians, describes a violent unraveling: a crisis that visits when the substance once invoked for relief is exiled, leaving…
In the dim chapel, upon marble that breathes the centuries, the script carves its wound: Tuam ipsius animam pertransibit gladius. The phrase, lifted from the Gospel according to Luke, echoes as a living sigil. This is the sword that passes through the soul, the gladius announced to Mary by the lips of the aged Simeon.…
A Collective and Lunar Oracle at the Heart of the Lion If interested in a personal liturgy and reading, please consult this portal. A new Moon has dawned beneath the coiling mane of Leo, as flame met flame in the mansion of fixed fire. On this night, four cards have been drawned by candlelight, the…
Night leans over the garden; dawn delays behind a horizon of stone. Within the hush that veils the tomb, a figure pauses, unadorned by myth and yet unclaimed by history. Her hands carry myrrh, her eyes the ache of having seen what is forbidden to name. It is she whom the scriptures conceal and, yet,…
Certain thresholds exist only to be preserved. In the most solemn chambers of the Sacred, meaning gathers in the very act of withholding; presence folds itself behind silence, and the highest reverence is found in not transgressing the veil. Among the many images of the hidden Divine, few bear such weight as the scene near…
In certain texts, reading is a ritual immersion in the mineral tides that underlie the world’s ephemeral surface. Among such works, Stoner by John Williams stands as a winter bloom in the withered field of American prose; austere, withholding, and strangely radiant in its refusal of spectacle. It resists the hunger for epiphany. Nevertheless, as…
Amidst the vast theatre of Sacred history, the profaned garden weaves through all ages, an echo from Paradise’s wounded threshold. Idolatry emerges through a blindness to the living pulse that flickers beneath the symbol. Whenever the Rose is mistaken for the Sun that summoned it, the fall begins. Devotion, tender in its origin, slips into…
When the world clings to its unshaped dreams, a current rises, subtle to the flesh and heavy with a sacred weight. At this trembling edge, an ancient intelligence abides; neither solar in its blaze nor confined to the patience of earth; but lunar, tidal, secret as the pulse beneath the night’s own skin. Gabriel they…
Mankind has always raised temples toward that first and unseen Light. The Egyptian city of Heliopolis, or Iunu, the City of the Sun, stands among the most ancient and exalted sanctuaries of metaphysical thought; a site where granite and papyrus converge, and the intellect dares to trace the contours of the World’s beginning. If Memphis…
The silent chambers of Western and Eastern wisdom, where ink maps the firmament and hours bear the weight of memory, contain the key to open the astrological chart as a temple inscribed in time. Each nativity unfolds as a clock wound by unseen hands; its gears forged of matter and a light older than dawn.…
