Of the “Rosicrucians” and their curious runes,
I speak now in verse, but must name them clearly:
the mysterious original, started in Europe
in the seventeenth century, a secret Order,
is the group at hand, not what goes after.
They’ve a curious venue, an Invisible College,
a brick building with budding wings
for soaring upwards to seek for Spirit
and a base with wheels, a benefit to a guild
that’s always on the move in offering its wisdom.
A sword defends ‘gainst seekers unworthy,
and a trumpet’s blast attends its passage
for the few with the ears, a fortunate elite,
to hear its message of holy renewal
to the panoply of arts and a path to wisdom.
Defenders on ramparts face all directions,
watching for friends, watching for foes.
No particular garments they prided in wearing,
but of the lands they occupied, the customs they followed.
Wanting seekers as worthy successors,
call to them, they said, and call many did.
But none were answered — none that said so.
(“Those who say don’t know; those who know don’t say.”)
Their weird College, where could it be?
Everywhere, really, and also nowhere.
Though that time-bounded, temporal manifestation
was lost to history (yet it left some traces),
its Spirit lives on, a spark that’s reborn
anew in the world in new lights,
time after time for true Initiates.
’Tis a Golden Thread that gamboled through the Ages,
even long before that limited appearance
in the seventeenth century. The Solar essence
of that august fraternity is the ever-constant
beacon of Tradition, bearing renewal.
In multiple garments — Masonry, Alchemy,
Gnosis, Yoga, Knighthood, Runes, et cetera,
it has made its mark and manifests still.
So if you’re a seeker, then a search start.
They’re here today, dressed in the forms
that suit the time of this sundered-from-Spirit,
all-too Modern World. Make your revolt;
your eyes and ears you must open wide,
and center yourself in your Self’s true heart.
Their bona fide heirs are found by their boons
where Mysteries are sought, the Mead is poured,
and Ascent is the way. Seek that College
with eyes of the heart and ears of the heart,
and you just might chance some joyful perceptions:
its passage to see and its approach to hear
as it rolls through Midgard, roaming the world
and blowing its trumpet to attract the worthy.
Thus, make your call, most sincerely
— if you’re really ready — to the “Rosicrucians”
appropriate your nature, and with pure intent.
And perhaps you’ll find the help of both,
an answer from them and an offer that’s rare:
to gainfully join with the Golden Thread,
linking with Tradition for the light of renewal
and a wisdom path in the world today.
(Recommended reading: The Rosicrucian Enlightenment by Francis A. Yates.)
The picture is “The Invisible College of the Rose Cross Fraternity” by Theophilus Schweighardt in Speculum Sophicum Rhodo-Stauroticum (1618), and is thus in the public domain.
The poem is Copyright © 2019 Eirik Westcoat.
All rights reserved.