Journal of the Western Mystery Tradition
No. 17, Vol. 2. Autumnal Equinox 2009


by Dean F. Wilson

 Division is a deadly thing
That takes the crown from every king,
That sets the left against the right,
That keeps the daylight out of night.
The sword can strike, slay and sever,
And cause a schism that will ever
Be a source of constant clashing,
The blade that's always striking, slashing.
And yet within its hidden hilt
Beneath the layers of buried guilt
There is a paradox that lies
Within the sword's own sharp disguise;
The secret in its double edge
Upon the nape, we make our pledge
To use the sword to reunite
The darkness with her brother, light.
For we can slice through all the lies
That make division in our eyes.
And deadly as it once has been
The sword can now be used within.