The Winged Beetle

44 THE GARDEN OF JANUS For now that cosmic chaos of I AM Bursts like a bubble. Mystical The night comes down, a soaring wedge of flame Woven therein To be a sign to them who yet have never been. XXXI The universe I measured with my rod. The blacks were balanced with the whites ; Satan dropped down even as up soared God ; Whores prayed and danced with anchorites. So in my book the even matched the odd : No word I wrote Therein, but sealed it with the signet of the goat. XXXII This also I seal up. Read thou herein Whose eyes are blind ! Thou may’st behold Within the wheel (that alway seems to spin All ways) a point of static gold. Then may’st thou out therewith, and fit it in That extreme sphere Whose boundless farness makes it infinitely near.