Adoration of Nuit


I adore Thee, Nuit, adore the agonies and trials

I adore the deadly deep desperation,

The uneven sleepless nights, vials

Of Thy eternal loneliness in manifestation.


I adore Thee through all that happens.

I am a quintessence of soul set on fire,

A flaming up of inner aspirations,

Forming a true eidolon of a soul that aspires.


I adore Thee Nuit, I adore Thy sweet traces

Of ineffable love, hidden in unlimited space

And hidden in life’s sorrowful faces.

I adore Thee through life’s race.


O, golden and silver of life’s mystic dawn!

We move as a faint spark of light in vast illumination;

Thus sparking and living know how we spawn

Phenomena and all its illusion.


I adore Thee, Nuit, oh vast expanding One

Of illimitable Space. I in Thy bosom a minute

Vestige of forgotten and unknown atom

Spell yet an end to notions of the finite.


Oh, vast blue Space, O signature of matter,

Oh unfulfilled in eternal grace!

Who yearns for dancing point of light, unshattered

By its law of gravity and place.


Still I adore Thee, adore Thee, adore Thee,

Everlasting management of possibilities.

Adore Thy oneness and interpenetration of me

Adore Thy ineffable harmonies.


Oh, plentiful agency of limitless beauty

I adore Thee far into blue-dimpled night

I bend towards Thee in evanescent duty

As a spark to manifest life, love, liberty and light.


I adore Thee as my true soul steals forth;

I adore Thee in art and inspiration;

I adore Thee in all loves and silent mirth;

I adore Thee in quiet transformation.


I am a virgin earth unto Thy sublime expression,

A virgin Queen, Malkah unrecognized.

I adore Thy traces through me in secret recognition

Of Illumination at last by Thee franchised.


Oh, Nuit, Goddess of all and none

And one again, and whatever may be

On heaven and earth and all between.

I love Thee because I am Thy whole-made Tree.


In Thy dispensation I am seeing through

Thy veils of dance as disguised infinity

As mysterious as eagle that flew

Into thine Empyrean, dissolving his trinity.


A soul laid bare aspires yet again to Thy bosom

Amid all of illusions laid aside and abandoned

Until the least of these lead to love’s fruition

Beyond all experience that may be fathomed.


Oh, Nuit, I in Thy embrace lie serene

And turned into Nothing, only a cenotaph

Marking my existence. Too glorious to bear

Is Nuit who annihilates thus even my path.


This path exists, no more because swallowed

In essential space. I am the butterfly

Destroyed by Light, wings that were malleable

To circumstance are gone in ecstasy of death’s blight.


I adore Thee, Nuit, Thou glorious One unfulfilled

Through every interstice of space.

Today and always this life is spilled

In ecstasy of Thine unwearying embrace.


All writings of Phyllis Seckler are ©Temple of the Silver Star. All Rights Reserved.