Tag Archives: roses

In Nomine Babalon, CXLVIII

CXLVIII

Worship and praise to the Victorious Queen,

Empress of earth in Your garden so green

With clovers and roses and snow-white swan;

I raise up the cup and adore Babalon!

In Nomine Babalon: 156 Adorations to the Scarlet Goddess

 

The Hermetic Library arts and letters pool is a project to publish poetry, prose and art that is inspired by or manifests the Western Esoteric Tradition. If you would like to submit your work for consideration as part of the Arts and Letters pool, contact the librarian.

In Nomine Babalon, XCVII

XCVII

The sweet smell of roses, of jasmine and myrrh,

The fragrance of lilac reminds me of Her!

In Her garden I am a frolicking faun,

I raise up the cup and adore Babalon!

In Nomine Babalon: 156 Adorations to the Scarlet Goddess

 

The Hermetic Library arts and letters pool is a project to publish poetry, prose and art that is inspired by or manifests the Western Esoteric Tradition. If you would like to submit your work for consideration as part of the Arts and Letters pool, contact the librarian.

Griffith Park Rose Vine Altar

 

“In ancient Egypt roses were used to worship the goddess Isis, the ideal mother and wife. They were considered sacred flowers and have been found in Egyptian tombs.

The Griffith Park Rose Vine Altar was constructed as an offering to Isis on the occasion of the New Moon in Sagittarius on November 25, 2011.”

 

Griffith Park Rose Vine Altar

 

The Hermetic Library visual pool is a visual scavenger hunt for images of a living Western Esoteric Tradition.

Images of your ritual or ritual space, images of sigils or tools, showing off your own library or special volume from the restricted stacks, sacred spaces and places, esoteric artefacts and installations, inspired paintings and people – these and much more are part of the culture and practice of magick.

How Sweet I Roamed

 

How Sweet I Roamed” by The Fugs from Electromagnetic Steamboat: The Reprise Recordings

“How sweet I roam’d from field to field,
And tasted all the summer’s pride,
‘Till I the prince of love beheld,
Who in the sunny beams did glide!

He shew’d me lilies for my hair,
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his gardens fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.

With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir’d my vocal rage;
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.

He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.” — William Blake