The Heart of the Master

way, and before Him the Earth reeleth in the rhythm of her Bacchanal dance!” Then I knew also this: all these poor dead men that lay about me had been slain by their own fear, their fault of faith in deeming that the Sun—or any Star—could die. And now I, who had only felt the fear of that figure, feel the fascination. I understand that He—whoever, whatever He may be—is He for whom we all so long had waited. As I fix my eyes upon it, I become aware that its blackness against the light of the Star is only relative; and as I gain confidence in my sight, that darkness goes. The figure is a prism of pure crystal—it is the distortion and interference with the Light it transmits which caused those phantoms of terror to dance their Witches' Sabbath on the moving miasma. And now I am drawn swiftly up by some invisible force; sucked by some vortex towards the Hill. And now I face Him as He stands above me. Homo. His head is slightly bowed as if he brooded some delight. He wears a helm of ruddy gold, radiant with the light of the Star. In the midst of his brows is a black diamond in a circlet of ruby and emerald, set in pure mother-of-pearl, so that it seems the eye of some unknown, some unknowable God. This eye has no lid. But his two human eyes are still half-closed, as if in worship or in wonder of rapture. His arms are folded on his breast: upon his corslet is the golden image of the Sun. In his right hand is a rod of amber, crowned with a ruby; in his left an amethyst lotus with a sapphire corolla. Lo! from his eyes flow tears of mingled sorrow and joy, of joy that burns up sorrow, and with these tears he smites the barren rock beneath his feet. It melts like wax at the touch; roses spring up and twine about his limbs. Around him are four living creatures, begotten of his will, so that the mountain might glow with the life that flows through him. There is a tawny Lion, from whose mouth drops honey. He roars aloud, and the word thereof is this: The Wrath of the Master is the Energy of Love. There is a buffalo Cow, grey-blow, whose udders overflow with milk, and her lowing means: The Work of the Master is the Nourishment of Life.