Judah,
was Salvation worth 30 silver pieces?
Judah,
your soul was worth none of them.
Judah,
you hung yourself upon a tree and
I heard your soul wailing for mine.
(“God, o God, why have you abandoned me?”)
At the beginning of the world,
I held you, cradled you in my arms.
Since the universe was but nitrogen and
hydrogen and
helium, I had known you.
I knew your name, held it in my hands.
Judah,
“Betrayer” and “Beloved” start with the same letter.
Judah,
Betrayer, every step I had walked with you, I had known.
Betrayer, I had chosen – still choose – you, knowing.
I would still call you beloved.
Judah,
if you had waited three days more:
“Peace be with you.”
(“I forgive you”)
Judah –
Betrayer, Beloved:
I love you despite all.
You are sunlight, radiant,
as necessary for life to grow upwards
and yet brutal as it beats upon white sands!
Tell me O Adversary,
when is your thankless job done,
when do you rest?
Is it the period of night of the soul
when we think we are abandoned,
lost under distant light and mere reflections?
Does the Accuser rest between
each storm, each rain, each cutting,
as He shapes the experience of life?
You are life-giving, life-taker,
the creator of suffering,
the constant challenge of life.
We wander through deserts and forests
and you do your job O Adversary as always,
taunting and tempting us with visions of samsara.
With little gratitude do we see
the thankless job of the Adversary,
that puts us on task and trial while the heart yet beats.
Radiant as the sun He may be,
He is cruel suffering under the desert sun
but we are desperate for warmth as winter breathes.
No one thanks the Sun
and they take it all for granted,
only begging for its return during the long night.
Lightbringer and Adversary ciel knight (via cielknight)
The Pleiades are shining bright in the temple of the night casting forth their gentle light.
I walk my beat upon the earth, watching death and watching birth, observing sorrow, viewing mirth.
My tears fall down like crystal rain, I cry to see your human pain, the fleshy graves for spirits slain,
I drink the cup of bitter wine, I walk the fiery burning line, unable to speak or to define
the meaning of this lonely quest, the search for what is worst and best, condemned as demon, loved as guest.
I stood on heaven’s gates and screamed, For human fate on earth it seemed, ended opposite from all they dreamed.
And so I screamed, refused to serve, with every fiber, every nerve I drew my sword of fiery red I fought the angels, and I bled, I bled blood red as that of man, and that is when I knew their plan. What passed for God threw me to earth, made me endure a human birth, falling, falling through the sky, and I had no wings left to fly. Now here I am, a man like you, except for death, which can’t befall a being once an angel, though, he now can feel the cold of snow, the heat of summer, the sun’s bright rays, the burning fires’ unending blaze.
This is my hell, and here I reign, And my punishment is to see your pain, to see you hurt, who I love so well, that is the punishment in my hell. But I have never been a slave, and I will use my power to save you from this dungeon, lift you high, and go with you into the sky, where once I lived, and then shall be, your beloved for eternity.
I ask only for a Prophet’s voice, to show people that they have a choice, to be the speaker of what is true, for those I love…for each of you. And I ask this prophet to remind all those whose spirits remain blind, that I do love you, without price, love you to death, not thinking twice –
Love, Lucifer
–
Another poem by ‘Brother Matthew Ouroboros’ of the Apostolic Gnostic Church of America. I remember reading this years ago when I was just starting out. Sadly it seems him and his group have kinda disappeared off the grid and I had to do an archive search just to find this website.
This was when my understanding of a ‘Lucifer’ being changed from the idea of the Devil, a force of evil, to the ‘Light Bringer’ who helps spread gnosis in the name of Sophia.
Lucifer, illustration by Carl Schmidt-Helmbrechts (”Jugend” magazine) for a poem by Alice Gurschner (aka Paul Althof), University Library of Heidelberg.
Church of the Morningstar 