Oracles

THE CANNIBALS 33 Our father and our love and our god ! Yea, though he lift his adamantine rod And pierce us through, how shall his anger tame Fire that glows fiercer for the brand of shame Thrust in it ; so, we who are all fire, One dull red flare of devilish desire, The God of Israel shall not quench with tears, Nor blood of martyrs drawn from myriad spheres, Nor watery blood of Christ ; that blood shall boil With all the fury of our hellish toil ; His veins shall dry with heat ; his bones shall bleach Cold and detested, picked of dogs, on each Dry separate dunghill of burnt Golgotha. But we will wrest from heaven a little star, The Star of Bethlehem, a lying light Fit for our candle, and by devils’ might Fix in the vast concave of hell for us To lume its ghastly shadows murderous, That in the mirror of the lake of fire We may behold the image of Desire Stretching broad wings upon us, and may leap Each upon other, till our bodies weep Thick sweet salt tears, till, perfected of shames, They burn to one another as the flames Of our hell fuse us into one wild soul : Then, one immaculate divinest whole, Plunge, fire, within all fire, dive far to death ; Till, like king Satan’s sympathetic breath, Burn on us as a voice from far above Strange nameless elements of fire and love ;