The Clavis Mystica.

“En Giro Torte Sol Ciclos Et Rotor Igne” (The Spiritual Sun has turned the Ages in a Circle and is their Mover with Fire) are words referred to in the Ogdoadic system of High Magick as the “Clavis Mystica.” Taken all together, they are a palindrome – reading the same forwards as they do backwards. The words are not easy to translate, being a mixture of medieval Greek and Latin, and they form the Sacred Heart of Mysteries and serve as a most perfect Invocation of those Inner Plane Powers.

But what does it mean to “turn the ages in a Circle?” Marsilio Ficino explains: “Eternity is the image of God; the Cosmos, of Eternity; the Sun, of the Cosmos; and Man, of the Sun. People call Transformation Death, because the body is dissolved, but in fact life withdraws into the Unmanifest.  I shall tell you, as you are listening with such reverence, my beloved Hermes, that all these things that have been thus Dissolved and indeed the Cosmos, are transformed. Each day a part of the Cosmos withdraws into the Unmanifest, but the Cosmos is never Dissolved. This is what happens to the Cosmos, these are its Cycles and its Mysteries. The Cycles are a continual rotation and the Mystery is the Renewal.”

The daily withdrawal of the Cosmos is the principal concept here, symbolized to the ancients by the setting of the Sun – the well-known journey of Ra and other Solar Gods through the Underworld. This is of course followed by the Dawn: this is the Regeneration, the Rebirth of the Adept after the Sojourn of the Darkness. Thus is this palindrome whose very orthographic structure symbolizes the Cycles of “Continual Rotation” and Renewal.

You can see these eight words in the beautiful marble inlay on the floor of the Baptistery of San Giovanni, where they encircle an image of the Sun, and you can trace the footsteps of the greatest minds of the Renaissance that were quite familiar with this palindrome and still view this sight today inside the eight-sided Baptistery of Florence which is situated in the Piazza del Duomo.



Circular chart showing a modern set of Talismanic Geomantic Symbols.

The chart informs the Geomancer on the Elemental, Planetary and Zodiacal Correspondences (conforming to Agrippa’s ideas on Planetary Rulership). The upper half shows the Diurnal Figures and the lower half the Nocturnal. The Arabic words in the center of the Circle, “Ilm-al Raml”, translates to the “Science of the Sands”. 

“Geomancy is an Art of Divination, wherby the judgement may be rendred by lot, or Destiny, to every question of every thing whatsoever, but the Art hereof consisteth especially in certain points where of certain figures are deducted according to the reason or rule of equality of inequality, likenesse or unlikenesse,; which Figures are also reduced to the Coelestiall Figures, assuming their natures and proprieties, according to the course and forms of the Signes and Planets.” – Henry Cornelius Agrippa



Wilderness arising from a sprig, losing itself over these many years.  Easy relating to as I’m nature’s irascible son.  Feeling as if I’ve been here for too long, wandering woods out my back door.  Connecting with the ambiguity & strangeness of hid & slithering things.  A damp world in which things are born with urgency.

From very early on I consider how little I connect to anything else, but it isn’t until I eat a part of her heart that I’m driven to know her better.  Blackened mushroom in the palm of my hand throbbing indiscernible.  I can feel it, though, tampering with my fear.  Afraid to awaken the dead, those I left behind when I came to this place …

The earth – my home?  A lie.  Perfectly timed in light of borrowed titles; kingdom erecting doubt, shrouding nakedness with scorn.  The leaden ceremony goes on, without the lightness of an erected bough transmitting into space.  Everything is weighed down by the Word.  Cloven repeal: eradicating life or meaning.  I go in search of the Word myself. Undercovering witnesses to the vanquishing scheme long before my time.  

Alchemists & poets surviving in the pre-dawn.  Dark age conquering body, but not always spirit.  Tortured screams in streets everywhere they turn, plague spreads driving the most resourceful away.  Only in a surrounding wood, black & gnarled, will they discover anything resembling life.  Even as nightfall cascades down from the highest tower, they build a fire at the mouth of a cave.


It’s only those words we’re not meant to read that the first hint of freedom is revealed.  Suicidal ramblings of discontented psychopomps; becoming like beasts in their own way, to better understand its fleeting message.  Writ in blood in the Hour of the Phoenix, created through the destruction of a hymn.

Beautiful words that flow like diamonds, toppling down a majestic cliffside in the mode of a waterfall.  Modulations bust, soundlessly drifting over a constantly permuting landscape.  Faces leering from stars; another transitory constellation, breezing over emerald valleys.  Those who can see it lie in tall grass absorbing changes taking place …

The dust is more alive than dead; living in the pages for all time, until final war gives her back what she wants.  Instantly, all our visions will be crushed!  Kin.  Ones I wrote about before.   I lived with them in a house of souls, bordering tenants of astral hallucinations.  Days & nights melded like orderly verse – broken moments when we’re too drunk to talk.  A land filled with heavy noise & smoke.  Desert stretching between us: of haunted portals & djinn – Wake up!  The night is young!  Consuming more drugs just to stay alert.  Pushing through the topsoil while in agony.    


Where did we go as night bartered for our attention?  Had nature been alert to it she’d of invited us long before.  All those years I went looking, crawling through barbed vines into the darkest tunnels I could find.  Anger mounting as I could not reach states I longed for: irreal distinction, with a greater understanding of celestial orders, poetic augury …

She’d given me all the things I desired before.  It was with the love only a mother can provide that she took me in.  Drenching her innards with my seed: fount of inspiration driving my pen forward.  So many creatures born from our union; blind, slipping around in the mud, wrested from the chaos of spleen.

A sword forged out of reason.   The only way to stay alive.  Hacking away for years trying to get away – violence leads to escaping.  When the world crawls all over you like a swarm of fire ants while the edges boil in cool darkness.  I become the worm that rolls right over them with stark, yet casual, epiphanies.  One, a purple decoy, standing alone at the foot of the stairs, ascending without purpose …

What is beyond the eternal shadow?  Standing withered in a gutted expanse of trees, there is this figure standing in the wind.  Staring up at the vortex above, shoulders hunched.  Salivating blood down to their feet, soil sucks up the gesture with not a modicum of gratitude.  Sloughing the skin of a thousand dead summers, times you filled my head with decrees of runaway spirits.  I chased them through green canyons & over blackened hills.  A wilderness like no other, radiating my skull with dire impressions: elemental progeny, silhouetted in the grass on my way.  


I give birth to those who gave birth to me.  That’s what I do.  Anything else would be legendary.  Can’t you see the blood spatter on my arms & face? Was there ever any stopping me?  

The reality, sadly, is yes.  Seed is mutating again.  Questions answered long ago have adorned new faces.  Nature’s effigy is not fully known.  A name I’ll take to my grave, yet can’t live without.  I touch its beating heart in my thoughts when I feel the urge to kill.  No relief, though, in a world like this …

Putting down my pen, the thing that connects me back to the beginning …

I feel like I’m going to be sick.  Fading lines, walls climb.  Vines behind me eyes turn to soot & are blown away by terminal winds.  Dragged through mud for hours until I am calm enough to turn around.   Following the damage to a place where sands sink & wilderness is flat & barren.  Back to nights when all is seen in the purple auras of a silent tribe.  Still, one sits near.  Gazing across.  A ghost from another life?

A chill creeping through my bones.  Ears buzzing from headphone assault as my eyes water up.  Looking over the final verses, turning my back on a spirit I know is there …  

I can hear it breathing!  With no distinction between itself or any other outlying being.  It is how she taught me to feel: transmogrifying states, enough to situate itself in a multitude of spaces, vast, orbiting domains.  

So how, then, has this one come back after so many years?

Followed me out of the wilderness it did.  The stars.  Purple radiance of fungal travelers.  It is there on the day I am born & now it’s back.  Now, a swirling hole in the center of my room.  Imploded Magnetar.  Born out of madness.  Tearing wildly down the streets.  Destroying, with apathy, all that came before it.  Alive beyond measure.  Dead without a doubt.  Once a writhing, crimson fury that ravaged through lands & dimensions, reduced to yet another collapsing star.   



The Ouroboros is a Greek word meaning “tail devourer,” and is one of the oldest mystical symbols in the world. It can be perceived as enveloping itself, where the past (the tail) appears to disappear but really moves into an inner domain or reality, vanishing from view but still existing.

The ouroboros has several meanings interwoven into it. Foremost is the symbolism of the serpent biting, devouring, or eating its own tail. This symbolizes the cyclic Nature of the Universe: creation out of destruction, Life out of Death. The ouroboros eats its own tail to sustain its life, in an eternal cycle of renewal. It is sometimes depicted in a lemniscate shape (figure eight) as well.

The Serpent biting its own tail is first seen as early as 1600 years BC in Egypt as a symbol of the sun, and represented the travels of the sun disk. From there it moved to the Phonecians and then to the Greeks, who gave it its name, Ouroboros, which means devouring its tail.

In mythology, the Oroborus is a symbol representing the Milky Way galaxy. Myth refers to a serpent of light residing in the heavens. The Milky Way is this serpent, and viewed at galactic central point near Sagittarius, this serpent eats its own tail. Many ancients used the galaxy to calculate cosmic and earth cycles.

It is found in Gnosticism and alchemy representing cyclical natural life and the fusion of opposites. It also symbolizes the transcendence of duality and was related to the solar God Abraxas, and signified eternity and the soul of the world.

In alchemy, it represents the spirit of Mercury (the substance that permeates all matter), and symbolizes continuous renewal (a snake is often a symbol of resurrection, as it appears to be continually reborn as it sheds its skin.), the cycle of life and death, and harmony of opposites. As a symbol of the eternal unity of all things, the cycle of birth and death from which the alchemist sought release and liberation. It unites opposites: the conscious and unconscious mind. Alchemically, the ouroboros is also used as a purifying glyph.

The alchemical textbook, Chrysopoeia (gold making) of Kleopatra contains a drawing of the ouroboros representing the serpent as half light and half dark, echoing symbols such as the Yin Yang, which illustrates the dual nature of all things, but more importantly, that these opposites are not in conflict. The book is mainly centered around the idea of “one is all,” a concept that is related to hermetic wisdom.


The Ouroboros appears in many other cultures and settings as well…the Serpent Jormungand of Norse legend, one of the three children of Loki and Angrboda, grew so large that it could encircle the world and grasp its tail in its teeth. It guarded the Tree of Life, and is often depicted as an ouroboros. 

The Aztec serpent God Queztacoatl was depicted similarly, and Chinese alchemical dragons have both similar shapes and meaning. 

In Hindu, you have the dragon circling the tortoise which supports the four elephants that carry the world.