Aleister
Crowley .
PERDURABO .
TXILE
from
humankind !
The
snow 's fresh
flakes
Are
warmer
than
men 's
hearts. My mind
is
wrought
Into
dark
shapes
of solitary
thought
That loves
and
sympathizes , but awakes
No answering love
or pity.
What
a
pang
Hath
this
strange
solitude
to
aggravate
The self-abasement and
the blows
of
Fate !
No
snake
of hell hath
so
severe
a
fang !
I
am
not lower
than
all men
— I feel
Too
keenly .
Yet my place
is not
above ;
Though I have
this — unalterable Love
In
every
fibre .
I am
crucified
Apart on
a
lone burning
crag
of
steel.
Tortured , cast out ; and
yet - I shall
abide .
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