| Thou hermit of Old Night who wadest into the turbulence of the waters
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| un-drowned, who verily enters into death’s magisterium without fear,
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| thou whose toil is the ineffable work of the abyss that draws forth the all
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| slaying solve, thou art amongst the deathless race of the kingless,
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| beyond the provenance of god
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| In the light of Lucifer’s dawn, thy shadow casts long and dim before thee
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| In the pitch of Noctifer"s saturnine night thy shadow is the very face of the
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| abyss
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| Oh vajra-hearted lord enthroned within the silence between the birth and death
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| of every thought, in thronismos within the shadowed temple at the crux of the
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| cruciform!
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| Yet shall the very abyss of thought be wholly illuminated by the gleam from thy
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| morningstar lantern, the fruit plucked from the deepest root
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| To guide the pandemonion of self unto the scarlet hill of martyrdom,
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| upon the path that even devas are cursed to tread
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| Thou hast withdrawn the husks of the most bitter seed and the garments from the
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| gods themselves, to reach the hypostasis that is a black pearl dazzling the 7
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| aeons
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| Betwixt the hammer and anvil of becoming is thy presence eternal that is in
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| between-ness known as N.O.X. |
| Self-murderer and Self-begetter, with eyes fixed
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| unto the cup of Djemscheed, thou breakest the chains forged by stellar gravity
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| Oh, the motionless movement of Death! |
| With both the soberness of the Amethyst
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| and the mad Satyr’s ecstatic thirst, leap ye forth into the Mandala’s center
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| The Point where sun and moon collide, crushed to lifeless splinters before
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| ancient Night’s hollow eye |