12.17.
12.43.
74
THE EQUINOX
me!
I am as a little white dove tremblingupon Thine
altar, its throat stretched out to the knife.
I am as a
young child bought in the slave-market
.
.
. and night
is fallen!
I await Thee, Ο my Lord, with a great
longing, stronger than Life; yet am I as patient as
Death.
There was a certain Darwesh whose turban a thief
stole.
But when they said to him, “ See
! he hath taken
the road to Damascus !" that holy man answered,
as he went quietly to the cemetery, “I will await him
here ! "
So, therefore, there is one place, O thou thief of my
heart’s love, Adonai, to which Thou must come at last ;
and that place is the tomb in which lie buried all my
thoughts and emotions, all that which is “ I, and Me,
and Mine.”
There will I lay myself and await thee,
even as our Father Christian Rosenkreutz that laid
himself in the Pastas in the Vault of the Mountain of
the Caverns, Abiegnus, on whose portal did he cause to
be written the words, “ Post Lux Crucis Annos Patebo."
So Thou wilt enter in (as did Frater N. N. and his
companions) and open the Pastos ; and with thy Winged
Globe thou wilt touch the Rosy Cross upon my breast,
and I shall wake into life—the true life that is Union
with Thee.
So therefore—perinde ac cadaver—I await Thee.
I wrote, by the way, on some previous day (IV. 12.57
AM.) that Ι used the Supreme formula of Awaiting.
.
. .
Ridiculous mouse! is it not written in the Book of the