Stately is the man who stands beyond the crowd:
Watching, waiting, dreaming of the noble gold.
The world turns slowly, but the alchemist is steady and patient,
And the predictable motion of the universe reassures him.
This great Earth, so mighty a sphere, leans as it spins,
Resting upon the void that was never really a void,
But a field of
space occupied by innumerable souls
With one hand pointing to heaven and the other to earth.
Noble is the mind that penetrates the oldest mystery,
Transforming the world into purest gold:
The new peace will arrive like a brilliant dawn,
Evoking a sacred magic that only God can permit.
How the nations long for a prediction, a vision of truth
To confirm the kingly ambition, the great work to come,
When knights will ride again through fields of flowers
And castles will glimmer in the noon-day sun.
The alchemist knows the mood of the soul,
He watches it with inner eyes: seeking the 'new accord';
And
colours bright as jewels will sparkle within his mind
As he guides the soul through its greatest evolution yet.
Written by Mark Woollacott
Friday 2nd April 2010.
