Circulatio

By Marlene Seven Bremner

I never learned how to dive.

I only learned how to sink, in waters deep,
deeper than three times myself
and dark with the blood
of my ancestors.

Ages of my becoming passed
and long I lingered there,
until at once, and at long last
I rose into the air.

Wings, I grew, within the womb
that lifted me over
the turbid waters of the past
now behind, and under. 

High, I flew, as by my will
to lands of wisped clouds
where waterbearers mixed me up
within quicksilver shrouds.

Great the change, and short the time
it took to free myself
to cleanse my troubled, airy mind
and bring it back to health.

I sought the dragon's breath of wind
and drew it in my lungs
let the fire so swift descend
beneath my ribbed rungs.

Steady heat below the vessel,
the toad in earth lay turning,
ferment of the corpus swelled
as the toad lay burning.

Elemental separation
occurred after some time
each one in its proper station
directed by the mind. 

 

This poem was originally posted on my Patreon blog where I regularly share poetry, art, and articles relating to alchemy, magic, oil painting, and symbolism, along with other rewards for subscribers.