(A poem. Sorta.)

Nobody talks about it much.
At least, if they do, not to me.

But it’s weird…

being dead.

The floor is cold and hard beneath my bare feet.
I’m standing, propped up by a spear of some kind
in a cramped and lonely tomb.

I’m aware of others, the “living.”
I hear them shuffling and muttering,
the clink of wine glasses
the muffled laughter and muted conversations

from beyond the veil.

But I am alone.
In the dark.
And the cold.

For Her.

I can feel it when She arrives.

It’s not the silence at her entrance,
or her words of greeting.

It’s a tension in my dead bones,
a longing in muscles long since turned to salt jerky
within the shroud I wear.

I feel her presence.
It grows and swells,
and I yearn to her.

At last I feel it.

She is near.

She comes for me.

With her sword, she pierces the veil,
saying the Words:

“By the power of Iron, I say unto thee, ARISE…”

And … and… and…

I feel a divine breath, entering my nostrils.
And I feel a divine light, enlightening my eyes.
And I hear the divine voice, awakening my ears.
And, for a moment, I imagine I feel her divine kiss, imprinting my lips.

And I live!

Sort of.

She tasks me with a task I cannot hope to accomplish.

I am not worthy.

But SHE!
She makes me so.

She purifies me. She makes me fervent.
She ignites me with the flame of the Sun.
She crowns me, Priest and Lord.

And I am that, at Her bidding.

She has raised me from the dead
for this moment.

As She always has.
As She always does.

I set her upon the summit of the Earth.
I annoint her with water She has admonished,
with fire She has made sweet.



And then –

I shut Her behind a veil,
that she may divest Her Self of the trappings
to wake one as dead as myself.

I wander as I await her transformation,
each step measured, timed,
while I want to RUN and REJOICE!

She brough me back to LIFE!


I LIVE, Priest and King, I who was Dead!

And cold.
And alone.

Because of Her.

I love Her.


Her very image is LOVE.

But no one gets it. No one gets that she brought me back from Death.
I was nothing without her.
I did nothing, I was not worthy,

Not even to serve
without her.

She reached down
into the grave…

For me.

She made me live.

For a bit.
For a purpose.
For a reason.
For people who… don’t get it.

So I strive to tell them,
jealous the whole time that they should receive her favor
in ignorance…

Even though that was the point.

“OH NUIT!” I cry,
“Thou continuous one of Heaven! Let it be ever thus, that men speak not of Thee as One, but as NONE…
And let them speak not of Thee at all
since THOU art continuous.”

(And since thou art mine in a way they cannot address, cannot understand, since thou art my saviour, my joy, my life!)

And from beyond the veil,
Her trappings released,
Her pure form revealed…
She answers me;


And all of us.

She calls to me, and within my flesh
I respond,
and together, we administer the Virtues

To our Sisters.
And to our Brothers.
Unto the stars in the company of stars.

And, for a while, I am alive.

And I serve.

But while I may be administering the Virtues,
I am not serving those who benefit
in the moment.

It is for them, sure.
But I am not doing it for them.

I am serving Her.
For She brought me life.

And I love Her.


And then, I do my part.

And then I return

to my tomb

not so alone

not so cold

The veil is closed.
The living leave.
I am dead again.

It is not so bad, for I have LIVED!

And I love her.
I love her.


Rufus Opus

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