A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)

Out of the night forth flamed a star -mine own!

Now seventy light-years nearer as I urge

Constant my heart through the abyss unknown,

Its glory my sole guide while space surge

About me. Seventy light-yaers! As I near

That gate of light that men call death, its cold

Pale gleam begins to pulse, a throbbing sphere,

Systole and diastole of eager gold,

New life immortal, wartmth of passion bleed

Till night’s black velvet burn to crimson. Hark!

It is thy voice, Thy word, the secret seed

Of rapture that admonishes the dark.

Swift! By necessity most righteous drawn,

Hermes, authentic augur of the dawn!

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