The Dragon And The Kitten., A poem with mystical inclinations from both East and West. Options

Will then he be gentle enough, firm enough?
The dragon moves his head with the minutest of motions,
gently puffing his warming breath over the kittens fur.

Vermitrax. Those who warneth of my name do no wrong
for i am fierce an´ old a serpent an´ my ways, are they Set
as they be wise.

So ´tis that the coiled old one comes to quarry, so ´tis that
he wonders of the wonder, that he might be honored to warm
the warming one and Set aflame the very symbol of Sol.

Will the emperor in the palace of jade approve?
Will love ablaze silently beget an egg, a winged egg
girted with a serpent?

´tis enough that i be gentle, ´tis enough that i be firm.


To my Pomba Gira.

Written for my fiancé born in the year of the Cat. I am born in the year of the Dragon.

-Twinstars-

Twinstars. (Thelemic love poem) by Aiwaz (the Angel) , Fatijma and Khenti_Amenti.


Aiwaz-*Every man and every woman is a star*

Fatijma -You´re the star to witch I´m a satilite. And the diffrence between you and the rest of the world is that you´re aware of youreself as a God, a Star.

Satyrian -Let then , o red harlot thine duty be made aclear before all the lesser satelites. To be made aloose an´be set apart a Godess unto thyself. Take upon thee a throne in the centre an´none the lesser shall thine Kyng be. For it shall be said. ´There are ye Gods, Gemeni, the twinstars, the Lovers

Fatijma- Two stars, bright in the universe twirl around each other. Love, adorance, trust, only some of the things that bind them together. Together on lead turned to gold thrones they observe the illusion around them. For a second in the illusion they are separated, bur the next second they will be together


*This poem appeared spontaniously during a conversation by me and my fiancé.
Nothing mystical, were just darn creative. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif) *



-A vocal most enchanting-

A vocal most enchanting.
Stroking, lingering about, wispering.

A breath of freedom, a bond of love.
The hanged man and the star.

A coastal murmur.
A silent roar.
A wisper and
dreams yet to come.

A shore but still waves singing freedom.
In an embrace, all but invisible, claspeth they.
Love, lingering, there, yet coming and going.
Nuturing the beach with every rythmic dancestep
the waqves celebrate the coming, the going,
the always remaining.


The same waters, yet achanging.
Spaces of exploration, yonder, yet here.

Spinning in spaces of experience, yet remaing in a centre.
A gaze, seeing so far, yet only one, one in focus, one in thought, one in devotion,
one in in love, one in emotion.

The wind, gently, the sight,
singing a vocal most enchanting