Graceful as a gazelle
Swimming as a swan;
Shining Silver Star
The beautiful Babalon.

They’ve called you Innana, Ishtar and Hathor;
Maiden, mother, crone and whore
Astarte, Aphrodite, Venus, Diana;
Blood of life: the sacred Mana.

I see thee through the thin veil
Of the Holy Virgin Mary;
Pleasure currents that we sail
The oyster and the cherry.

Either a nineteen year-old princess
Or a forty-nine year-old queen;
The need of love to confess
The mysteries you haven’t seen.

All the bliss that you desire
Is available upon request;
Tantra sparks the liquid fire
and Sir Mark is the best!

To worship the mighty goddess
and quench the unbridled thirst;
Praise to Babalon who brought us
This orgasm about to burst!

The sun slowly makes its day’s journey into the western gate as I burn lovely incense and meditate on my heart center. (Those of you familiar with yoga, the chakras or my last book will readily bring to mind the name Anahata, that strong and resilient lotus of the Holy Guardian Angel). My Kabalistic friends know this as Tiphareth or beauty and that it is, that it is.

As I am contemplating my heart chakra in the hour of the death of the sun, I can almost make out the mighty arch-angel Gabriel in his lovely flowing, royal purple-trimmed robes of orange iridescence. Holding that most-excellent chalice of ecstasy within his hands in a display of noble reverence and accolades to us tiny human creatures. Not insignificant, yet not the only life forms on this amazing planet, nor in this vast, almost-unfathomable universe. I am going within to that inner sanctuary of truth that resides in us all. The veil of Paroketh is rent as we slip into the magick of dream time. I am no longer ‘I’ yet a form of wave patterns reverberating in the aethyr as a current of light. And there is light!

Towards the astral temple of the most ancient ones. I slowly climb the humongous, purple marble steps in a set of 22 then 12 to a platform. The plane levels out into a smooth, lavender and gold terrace. I view before my un-self, another set of steps. I climb these sets of 3 then 5 then 7 steps onto the porch of this gigantic temple made of the most beautifully carved, violet marble.

How amazing! I ponder moving between two enormous pillars of the same, aforementioned marble. Yet, the pillar on my left is of a softer hue, whereas the one on my right is a darker tone. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and step forward on my left foot - the one ancient Egyptians claimed was the power foot of going forth - represented by the hieroglyph of the sandal strap and/or Ankh. For life is traveling rapidly forth, ever moving towards that symbolic west. (Fear not! We never really ‘die’ so-called, yet are reborn, again and again). Mystery of mysteries!

The door is a thin, purple silken veil of translucent light. I move my astral hands forward and part the velvety softness. I realize that the gateway above the veil is of the same lovely marble. Carved into the Vesica Picsea, a sacred portal of all-knowing. How wonderful to be passing like a new-born from this arched
doorway shaped as a large yoni. Mmm.