ALEISTER CROWLEY
‘Though oft-time its most holy fre
Lacks oil, whene’er my own Desire
Before desire has dwindled,
see the thin web binding
me
With thirteen cords of nity *
Toward the calm centre of the sea,
(O thou supernal mother !*)
‘The triple light my path divides
‘To twain and fifty sudden sides*
Each perfect as each other.
Now backwards, inwards still my mind
Mast track the intangible and blind,
‘And seeking, shall securely find
Hidden in secret places
Fresh feasts for every soul that strives,
New life for many mystic lives,
‘And strange new forms and faces.
‘My mind still searches, and attains
By many days and many pains
To That which Is and Was and reigns
‘Shadowed in four and ten ;#
‘And loses self in sacred lands,
And cries and quickens, and understands
Beyond the first Amens