I (Kenose)

(“Si non credideritis, non intelligetis”
Isaiah VII: 9
L'Ange Albe)

“Everything, except God, has in itself some measure of privation,
Thus all individuals may be graded according to the degree
To which they are infected with mere potentiality”

Was there not an inconceivable loss of knowledge at Bethlehem?
Christ's abasement, His subjecting Himself to the laws of human birth
And growth and to the lowliness of fallen human nature...
Did the Son remain the transcendent Logos,
Is there not a radical and fatal discontinuity between the consciousness?
Of the transcendent Logos and the secular Jesus?

Obedience to the point of death,
Falling down through increasing
Pressure
Into the deathlike region
Of ooze and slime and decay
These are the fruits and symptoms of the abasement of the World,
The assumption of humanity and the simultaneous occultation of Divinity

(Immaculata

Du wirfst mich in den Moderstaub des Todes)

“And He is before all things, and in Him all things consist”
Triune God,
Morphed into a Being of apparent theanthropic nature
Deprived of the Light of Splendor
Dost thou still stand in undiminished Majesty
After the exinanition of divine attributes
The face of profound fire gone astray,
Exhaling austerities in concealed, divine radiance?

Kenosis, O' theory of great peril!
Blinded, sanguineous eyes and with a trembling hand,
A frail androgynous being holds the perilous doctrinal balance,
Robed in a maculated garment spattered with the sordid blood
Of the Flagellation, of the lacerations and fierce wounds
Carved by royal attributes, of the crimson spurts
Dripping without end,
As was celebrated the High Mass of the Comforter

Kenosis, O' theory of great peril!
Rob God of any attribute and fill the shattering universe
With the pestilent scent of putrefaction and the glorious cloud of death,
For steadfast, at any cost, He must be
Solely the incarnate Word proclaimed by all the prophets and apostles
Would have, in dying, an infinite value,
Sufficient to atone, by His astonishing work,
For the Sins of the world

Res rapta...
Res rapienda...
Hast thou succumbed to the original malady?
“For being empty himself, He giveth empty answers
To empty enquirers; for whatever enquiry may be made of Him,
He answered according to the emptiness of the man”
In visceribus...
A willing expiatory Victim, calling constant shame and ignominy upon itself
Was thine irretrievable substance still intact in this Sinai of global Penitence,
Dost thou remember thine past Theophanies, the burning bush
And the Angel of the Lord?

(Et vestitus erat veste aspersa sanguine

“Le fond de ma pensée est que dans ce monde en chute toute joie éclate
Dans l'ordre naturel et toute douleur dans l'ordre divin”)

“In the next place, it never approached an assembly
Of righteous men; but avoideth them,
And cleaveth to the doubtful-minded and empty
And prophesieth to them in corners,
And decieveth them, speaking all things in emptiness to gratify their desire...”
Art thou working on collective deliverance?
Observe Merkabah, the chariot of the glory of God
Adrift and exiled, the Pilgrim of Light, grandiose and weeping
Thine aura, compared, is but pale and frail, alike to the one of an ailing child...

Vacillating faith, thine salvific virtue shall fail to make nil
A cataclysm of Judgment
The suffering of the Just shall be aggravated in grotesque proportions,
Pillaged, ravaged, overthrown
The realms of warmth and reassurance, of a maternal womb,
Shall disappear gradually under the crumbling yoke of Sin and Time...
The advent of Plerosis is the destiny of Man and shall shatter up to the Heavens,
A savage aperture to the High Mass of the Comforter:

“Therefore, my beloved, as you have always obeyed,
Not only in my presence,
But so much more now in my absence,
Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling...”