'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood
And do such bitter business as the bitter day
Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother.—
O heart, lose not thy nature, let not ever
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom.
Let me be cruel, not unnatural.


Let thy life be pure and calm,
Swayed softly as a windless palm.
Let the will-to-live be bound
To the one love of the Profound.
Let the thought, divinely free
From sense, observe its entity.
Intense and keen, turned inward, miss
No atom of analysis!
On one thought securely pinned
Still every whisper of the wind!
So like a flame straight and unstirred
Burn up thy being in one word!
Pierce to the heart! I leave thee here:
Thou art the Master. I revere
Thy radiance that rolls afar,
O Brother of the Silver Star!

Merry Crowleymass everyone [emoji1]


Happy Crowleymas !


Yes, Happy Crowleymas, everybody. :)

I haven't done much today other than raise a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke, but I guess that's something.