AOH :: LIBR242.TXT

AHA!

Original key entry Bill Heidrick, T.G. of O.T.O.
Extracted from EQ-I-3.AS2 by Fr. Nachash

This format (c) O.T.O.

O.T.O.
P.O.Box 430
Fairfax, CA  94930
USA

(415) 454-5176 ----  Messages only.

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                                     AHA!

              AHA!  THE SEVENFOLD MYSTERY OF THE INEFFABLE LOVE;
             THE COMING OF THE LORD IN THE AIR AS KING AND JUDGE
                           OF THIS CORRUPTED WORLD;
                                   WHEREIN
            UNDER THE FORM OF A DISCOURSE BETWEEN MARSYAS AN ADEPT
             AND OLYMPAS HIS PUPIL THE WHOLE SECRET OF THE WAY OF
            INITIATION IS LAID OPEN FROM THE BEGINNING TO THE END;
           FOR THE INSTRUCTION OF THE LITTLE CHILDREN OF THE LIGHT.

              WRITTEN IN TREMBLING AND HUMILITY FOR THE BRETHREN
            OF THE A.'. A.'. BY THEIR VERY DUTIFUL SERVANT, AN
                       ASPIRANT TO THEIR SUBLIME ORDER,
                               ALEISTER CROWLEY





                     THE ARGUMENTATION

A LITTLE before Dawn, the pupil comes to greet his Master, and begs
instruction.

   Inspired by his Angel, he demands the Doctrine of being rapt away into the
Knowledge and Conversation of Him.

   The Master discloses the doctrine of Passive Attention or Waiting.

   This seeming hard to the Pupil, it is explained further, and the Method of
Resignation, Constancy, and Patience inculcated.  The Paradox of Equilibrium.
The necessity of giving oneself wholly up the the new element.  Egoism
rebuked.

   The Master, to illustrate this Destruction of the Ego, describes the
Visions of Dhyana.

   He further describes the defence of the Soul against assailing Thoughts,
and shows that the duality of Consciousness is a blasphemy against the Unity
of God; so that even the thought called God is a denial of God-as-He-is-in-
Himself.

   The pupil sees nothing but a blank midnight in this Emptying of the Soul.
He is shown that this is the necessary condition of Illumination.  Distinction
is further made between these three Dhyanas, and those early visions in which
things appear as objective.  With these three Dhyanas, moreover, are Four
other of the Four Elements: and many more.

   Above these is the Veil of Paroketh.  Its guardians.

   The Rosy Cross lies beyond this veil, and therewith the vision called
Vishvarupadarshana.  Moreover, there is the Knowledge and Conversation of the
Holy Guardian Angel.

   The infinite number and variety of these Visions.

   The impossibility of revealing all these truths to the outer and
uninitiated world.

   The Vision of the Universal Peacock ___ Atmadarshana.  The confusion of the
Mind, and the Perception of its self-contradiction.

   The Second Veil ___ the Veil of the Abyss.

   The fatuity of Speech.                        

   A discussion as to the means by which the vision arises in the pure Soul is
useless; suffice it that in the impure Soul no Vision will arise.  The
practical course is therefore to cleanse the Soul.

   The four powers of the Sphinx; even adepts hardly attain to one of them!

   The final Destruction of the Ego.

   The Master confesses that he has lured the disciple by the promise of Joy,
as the only thing comprehensible by him, although pain and joy are transcended
even in early visions.

   Ananda (bliss) ___ and its opposite ___ mark the first steps of the path.
Ultimately all things are transcended; and even so, this attainment of Peace
is but as a scaffolding to the Palace of the King.

   The sheaths of the soul.  The abandonment of all is necessary; the adept
recalls his own tortures, as all that he loved was torn away.

   The Ordeal of the Veil of the Abyss; the Unbinding of the Fabric of Mind,
and its ruin.

   The distinction between philosophical credence and interior certitude.

   Sammasati ___ the trance wherein the adept perceives his causal connection
with the Universe; past, present, and future.

   Mastering the Reason, he becomes as a little child, and invokes his Holy
Guardian Angel, the Augoeides.

   Atmadarshana arising is destroyed by the Opening of the Eye of Shiva; the
annihilation of the Universe,.  The adept is destroyed, and there arises the
Master of the Temple.

   The pupil, struck with awe, proclaims his devotion to the Master; whereat
the latter bids him rather unite himself with the Augoeides.

   Yet, following the great annihilation, the adept reappears as an Angel to
instruct men in this doctrine.

   The Majesty of the Master described.

   The pupil, wonder-struck, swears to attain, and asks for further
instruction.

   The Master describes the Eight Limbs of Yoga.

   The pupil lamenting the difficulty of attainment, the Master shows forth
the sweetness of the hermit's life.

   One doubt remains: will not the world be able instantly to recognise the
Saint?  The Master replies that only imperfect Saints reveal themselves as
such.  Of these are the cranks and charlatans, and those that fear and
deny Life.  But let us fix our thoughts on Love, and not on the failings of
others!

   The Master invokes the Augoeides; the pupil through sympathy is almost rapt
away.

   The Augoeides hath given the Master a message; namely, to manifest the New
Way of the Equinox of Horus, as revealed in Liber Legis.

   He does so, and reconciles it with the Old Way by inviting the Test of
Experiment.  They would go therefore to the Desert or the Mountains ___ nay!
here  and now shall it be accomplished.

   Peace to all beings!



                              AHA!


OLYMPAS.  Master, ere the ruby Dawn
          Gild the dew of leaf and lawn,
          Bidding the petals to unclose
          Of heaven's imperishable Rose,
          Brave heralds, banners flung afar
          Of the lone and secret star,
          I come to greet thee.  Here I bow
          To earth this consecrated brow!
          As a lover woos the Moon
          Aching in a silver swoon,
          I reach my lips towards thy shoon,
          Mendicant of the mystic boon!
MARSYAS.  What wilt thou?
OLYMPAS.                   Let mine Angel say!
          "Utterly to be rapt away!"
MARSYAS.  How, whence, and whither?
OLYMPAS.                              By my kiss
          From that abode to this ___ to this!"
          My wings?
MARSYAS.              Thou hast no wings.  But see
          An eagle sweeping from the Byss
          Where God stands.  Let him ravish thee,
          And bear thee to a boundless bliss!  
OLYMPAS.  How should I call him?  How beseech?
MARSYAS.  Silence is lovelier than Speech.
          Only on a windless tree
          Falls the dew, Felicity!
          One ripple on the water mars
          The magic mirror of the Stars.
OLYMPAS.  My soul bends to the athletic stress
          Of God's immortal loveliness.
          Tell me, what wit avails the clod
          To know the nearness of its God?
MARSYAS.  First, let the soul be poised, and fledge
          Truth's feather on mind's razor-edge.
          Next, let no memory, feeling, hope
          Stain all its starless horoscope.
          Last, let it be content, twice void;
          Not to be suffered or enjoyed;
          Motionless, blind and deaf and dumb ---
          So may it to its kingdom come!
OLYMPAS.  Dear master, can this be?  The wine
          Embittered with dark discipline?
          For the soul loves her mate, the sense.
MARSYAS.  This bed is sterile.  Thou must fence
          Thy soul from all her foes, the creatures
          That by their soft and siren natures
          Lure thee to shipwreck!
OLYMPAS.                             Thou hast said:
          "God is in all."
MARSYAS.                   In sooth.
OLYMPAS.                               Why dread
          The Godhood? 
MARSYAS.              Only as the thought
          Is God, adore it.  But the soul creates
          Misshapen fiends, incestuous mates.
          Slay these: they are false shadows of
          The never-waning moon of love.
OLYMPAS.  What thought is worthy?
MARSYAS.                           Truly none
          Save one, in that it is but one.
          Keep the mind constant; thou shalt see
          Ineffable felicity.
          Increase the will, and thou shalt find
          It hath the strength to be resigned.
          Resign the will; and from the string
          Will's arrow shall have taken wing,
          And from the desolate abode
          Found the immaculate heart of God!
OLYMPAS.  The word is hard!
MARSYAS.                     All things excite
          Their equal and their opposite.
          Be great, and thou shalt be ___ how small!
          Be naught, and thou shalt be the All!
          Eat not; all meat shall fill thy mouth:
          Drink, and thy soul shall die of drouth!
          Fill thyself; and that thou seekest
          Is diluted to its weakest.
          Empty thyself; the ghosts of night
          Flee before the living Light.
          Who clutches straws is drowned; but he
          That hath the secret of the sea,
          Lives with the whole lust of his limbs, 
          Takes hold of water's self, and swims.
          See, the ungainly albatross
          Stumbles awkwardly across
          Earth ___ one wing-beat, and he flies
          Most graceful gallant in the skies!
          So do thou leave thy thoughts, intent
          On thy new noble element!
          Throw the earth shackles off, and cling
          To what imperishable thing
          Arises from the Married death
          Of thine own self in that whereon
          Thou art fixed.
OLYMPAS.                   Then all life's loyal breath
          Is a waste wind.  All joy forgone,
          I must strive ever?
MARSYAS.                        Cease to strive!
          Destroy this partial I, this moan
          Of an hurt beast!  Sores keep alive
          By scratching.  Health is peace.  Unknown
          And unexpressed because at ease
          Are the Most High Congruities.
OLYMPAS.  Then death is thine "attainment"?  I
          Can do no better than to die!
MARSYAS.  Indeed, that "I" that is not God
          Is but a lion in the road!
          Knowest thou not (even now!) how first
          The fetters of Restriction burst?
          In the rapture of the heart
          Self hath neither lot nor part.  
MARSYAS.  Tell me, dear master, how the bud
          First breaks to brilliance of bloom:
          What ecstasy of brain and blood
          Shatters the seal upon the tomb
          Of him whose gain was the world's loss
          Our father Christian Rosycross!
MARSYAS.  First, one is like a gnarled old oak
          On a waste heath.  Shrill shrieks the wind.
          Night smothers earth.  Storm swirls to choke
          The throat of silence!  Hard behind
          Gathers a blacker cloud than all.
          But look! but look! it thrones a ball
          Of blistering fire.  It breaks.  The lash
          Of lightning snakes him forth.  One crash
          Splits the old tree.  One rending roar! ---
          And night is darker than before.
OLYMPAS.  Nay, master, master!  Terror hath
          So fierce an hold upon the path?
          Life must lie crushed, a charred black swath,
          In that red harvest's aftermath!
MARSYAS.  Life lives.  Storm passes.  Clouds dislimn.
          The night is clear.  And now to him
          Who hath endured is given the boon
          Of an immeasurable moon.
          The air about the adept congeals
          To crystal; in his heart he feels
          One needle pang; then breaks that splendour
          Infinitely pure and tender ...
          ___ And the ice drags him down! 
OLYMPAS.                                  But may
          Our trembling frame, our clumsy clay,
          Endure such anguish?
MARSYAS.                         In the worm
          Lurks an unconquerable germ
          Identical.  A sparrow's fall
          Were the Destruction of the All!
          More; know that this surpasses skill
          To express its ecstasy.  The thrill
          Burns in the memory like the glory
          Of some far beaconed promontory
          Where no light shines but on the comb
          Of breakers, flickerings of the foam!
OLYMPAS.  The path ends here?
MARSYAS.                          Ingenuous one!
          The path ___ the true path ___ scarce begun.
          When does the night end?
OLYMPAS.                                    When the sun,
          Crouching below the horizon,
          Flings up his head, tosses his mane,
          Ready to leap.
MARSYAS.                  Even so.  Again
          The adept secures his subtle fence
          Against the hostile shafts of sense,
          Pins for a second his mind; as you
          May have seen some huge wrestler do.
          With all his gathered weight heaped, hurled,
          Resistless as the whirling world,
          He holds his foeman to the floor
          For one great moment and no more. 
          So ___ then the sun-blaze!  All the night
          Bursts to a vivid orb of light.
          There is no shadow; nothing is,
          But the intensity of bliss.
          Being is blasted.  That exists.
OLYMPAS.  Ah!
MARSYAS.       But the mind, that mothers mists,
          Abides not there.  The adept must fall
          Exhausted.
OLYMPAS.               There's an end of all?
MARSYAS.  But not an end of this!  Above
          All life as is the pulse of love,
          So this transcends all love.
OLYMPAS.                               Ah me!
          Who may attain?
MARSYAS.                       Rare souls.
OLYMPAS.                                 I see
          Imaged a shadow of this light.
MARSYAS.  Such is its sacramental might
          That to recall it radiates
          Its symbol.  The priest elevates
          The Host, and instant blessing stirs
          The hushed awaiting worshippers.
OLYMPAS.  Then how secure the soul's defence?
          How baffle the besieger, Sense?
MARSYAS.  See the beleagured city, hurt
          By hideous engines, sore begirt
          And gripped by lines of death, well scored
          With shell, nigh open to the sword!
          Now comes the leader; courage, run 
          Contagious through the garrison!
          Repair the trenches!  Man the wall!
          Restore the ruined arsenal!
          Serve the great guns!  The assailants blench;
          They are driven from the foremost trench.
          The deadliest batteries belch their hell
          No more.  So day by day fought well,
          We silence gun by gun.  At last
          The fiercest of the fray is past;
          The circling hills are ours.  The attack
          Is over, save for the rare crack,
          Long dropping shots from hidden forts; ---
          ___ So is it with our thoughts!
OLYMPAS.  The hostile thoughts, the evil things!
          They hover on majestic wings,
          Like vultures waiting for a man
          To drop from the slave-caravan!
MARSYAS.  All thoughts are evil.  Thought is two:
          The seer and the seen.  Eschew
          That supreme blasphemy, my son,
          Remembering that God is One.
OLYMPAS.  God is a thought!
MARSYAS.                    The "thought" of God
          Is but a shattered emerod:
          A plague, an idol, a delusion,
          Blasphemy, schism, and confusion!
OLYMPAS.  Banish my one high thought?  The night
          Indeed were starless.
MARSYAS.                        Very right!
          But that impalpable inane 
          Is the condition of success;
          Even as earth lies black to gain
          Spring's green and autumn's fruitfulness.
OLYMPAS.  I dread this midnight of the soul.
MARSYAS.  Welcome the herald!
OLYMPAS.                         How control
          The horror of the mind?  The insane
          Dead melancholy?
MARSYAS.                      Trick is vain.
          Sheer manhood must support the strife,
          And the trained Will, the Root of Life,
          Bear the adept triumphant.
OLYMPAS.                             Else?
MARSYAS.  The reason, like a chime of bells
          Ripped by the lightning, cracks.
OLYMPAS.                                     And these
          Are the first sights the magus sees?
MARSYAS.  The first true sights.  Bright images
          Throng the clear mind at first, a crowd
          Of Gods, lights, armies, landscapes; loud
          Reverberations of the Light.
          But these are dreams, things in the mind,
          Reveries, idols.  Thou shalt find
          No rest therein.  The former three
          (Lightning, moon, sun) are royally
          Liminal to the Hall of Truth.
          Also there be with them, in sooth,
          Their brethren.  There's the vision called
          The Lion of the Light, a brand
          Of ruby flame and emerald 
          Waved by the Hermeneutic Hand.
          There is the Chalice, whence the flood
          Of God's beatitude of blood
          Flames.  O to sing those starry tunes!
          O colder than a million moons!
          O vestal waters!  Wine of love
          Wan as the lyric soul thereof!
          There is the Wind, a whirling sword,
          The savage rapture of the air
          Tossed beyond space and time.  My Lord,
          My Lord, even now I see Thee there
          In infinite motion!  And beyond
          There is the Disk, the wheel of things;
          Like a black boundless diamond
          Whirring with millions of wings!
OLYMPAS.  Master!
MARSYAS.           Know also that above
          These portents hangs no veil of love;
          But, guarded by unsleeping eyes
          Of twice seven score severities,
          The Veil that only rips apart
          When the spear strikes to Jesus' heart!
          A mighty Guard of Fire are they
          With sabres turning every way!
          Their eyes are millstones greater than
          The earth; their mouths run seas of blood.
          Woe be to that accursŠd man
          Of whom they are the iniquities!
          Swept in their wrath's avenging flood
          To black immitigable seas! 
          Woe to the seeker who shall fail
          To rend that vexful virgin Veil!
          Fashion thyself by austere craft
          Into a single azure shaft
          Loosed from the string of Will; behold
          The Rainbow!  Thou art shot, pure flame,
          Past the reverberated Name
          Into the Hall of Death.  Therein
          The Rosy Cross is subtly seen.
OLYMPAS.  Is that a vision, then?
MARSYAS.                           It is.
OLYMPAS.  Tell me thereof!
MARSYAS.                      O not of this!
          Of all the flowers in God's field
          We name not this.  Our lips are sealed
          In that the Universal Key
          Lieth within its mystery.
          But know thou this.  These visions give
          A hint both faint and fugitive
          Yet haunting, that behind them lurks
          Some Worker, greater than his works.

          Yea, it is given to him who girds
          His loins up, is not fooled by words,
          Who takes life lightly in his hand
          To throw away at Will's command,
          To know that View beyond the Veil.

          O petty purities and pale,
          These visions I have spoken of! 
          The infinite Lord of Light and Love
          Breaks on the soul like dawn.  See!  See!
          Great God of Might and Majesty!
          Beyond sense, beyond sight, a brilliance
          Burning from His glowing glance!
          Formless, all the worlds of flame
          Atoms of that fiery frame!
          The adept caught up and broken;
          Slain, before His Name be spoken!
          In that fire the soul burns up.
          One drop from that celestial cup
          Is an abyss, an infinite sea
          That sucks up immortality!
          O but the Self is manifest
          Through all that blaze!  Memory stumbles
          Like a blind man for all the rest.
          Speech, like a crag of limestone, crumbles,
          While this one soul of thought is sure
          Through all confusion to endure,
          Infinite Truth in one small span:
          This that is God is Man.
OLYMPAS.  Master!  I tremble and rejoice.
MARSYAS.  Before His own authentic voice
          Doubt flees.  The chattering choughs of talk
          Scatter like sparrows from a hawk.
OLYMPAS.  Thenceforth the adept is certain of
          The mystic mountain?  Light and Love
          Are Life therein, and they are his?
MARSYAS.  Even so.  And One supreme there is
          Whom I have known, being He.  Withdrawn  
          Within the curtains of the dawn
          Dwells that concealed.  Behold! he is
          A blush, a breeze, a song, a kiss,
          A rosy flame like Love, his eyes
          Blue, the quintessence of all skies,
          His hair a foam of gossamer
          Pale gold as jasmine, lovelier
          Than all the wheat of Paradise.
          O the dim water-wells his eyes!
          There is such depth of Love in them
          That the adept is rapt away,
          Dies on that mouth, a gleaming gem
          Of dew caught in the boughs of Day!
OLYMPAS.  The hearing of it is so sweet
          I swoon to silence at thy feet.
MARSYAS.  Rise!  Let me tell thee, knowing HIm,
          The P
ath grows never wholly dim.
          Lose Him, and thou indeed wert lost!
          But He will not lose thee!
OLYMPAS.                            Exhaust
          The Word!
MARSYAS.              Had I a million songs,
          And every song a million words,
          And every word a million meanings,
          I could not count the choral throngs
          Of Beauty's beatific birds,
          Or gather up the paltry gleanings
          Of this great harvest of delight!
          Hast thou not heard the word aright?
          That world is truly infinite. 
          Even as a cube is to a square
          Is that to this.
OLYMPAS.              Royal and rare!
          Infinite light of burning wheels!
MARSYAS.  Ay!  The imagination reels.
          Thou must attain before thou know,
          And when thou knowest ___ Mighty woe
          That silence grips the willing lips!
OLYMPAS.  Ever was speech the thought's eclipse.
MARSYAS.  Ay, not to veil the truth to him
          Who sought it, groping in the dim
          Halls of illusion, said the sages
          In all the realms, in all the ages,
          "Keep silence."  By a word should come
          Your sight, and we who see are dumb!
          We have sought a thousand times to teach
          Our knowledge; we are mocked by speech.
          So lewdly mocked, that all this word
          Seems dead, a cloudy crystal blurred,
          Though it cling closer to life's heart
          Than the best rhapsodies of art!
OLYMPAS.  Yet speak!
MARSYAS.               Ah, could I tell thee of
          These infinite things of Light and Love!
          There is the Peacock; in his fan
          Innumerable plumes of Pan!
          Oh! every plume hath countless eyes;
          ___ Crown of created mysteries! ---
          Each holds a Peacock like the First.
OLYMPAS.  How can this be? 
MARSYAS.                  The mind's accurst.
          It cannot be.  It is.  Behold,
          Battalion on battalion rolled!
          There is war in Heaven!  The soul sings still,
          Struck by the plectron of the Will;
          But the mind's dumb; its only cry
          The shriek of its last agony!
OLYMPAS.  Surely it struggles.
MARSYAS.                          Bitterly!
          And, mark! it must be strong to die!
          The weak and partial reason dips
          One edge, another springs, as when
          A melting iceberg reels and tips
          Under the sun.  Be mighty then,
          A lord of Thought, beyond wit and wonder
          Balanced ___ then push the whole mind under,
          Sunk beyond chance of floating, blent
          Rightly with its own element,
          Not lifting jagged peaks and bare
          To the unsympathetic air!

          This is the second veil; and hence
          As first we slew the things of sense
          Upon the altar of their God,
          So must the Second Period
          Slay the ideas, to attain
          To that which is, beyond the brain.
OLYMPAS.  To that which is? ___ not thought? not sense?
MARSYAS.  Knowledge is but experience
          Made conscious of itself.  The bee,
          Past master of geometry,
          Hath not one word of all of it;
          For wisdom is not mother-wit!
          So the adept is called insane
          For his frank failure to explain.
          Language creates false thoughts; the true
          Breed language slowly.  Following
          Experience of a thing we knew
          Arose the need to name the thing.
          So, ancients likened a man's mind
          To the untamed evasive wind.
          Some fool thinks names are things; and boasts
          Aloud of spirits and of ghosts.
          Religion follows on a pun!
          And we, who know that Holy One
          Of whom I told thee, seek in vain
          Figure or word to make it plain.
OLYMPAS.  Despair of man!
MARSYAS.                    Man is the seed
          Of the unimaginable flower.
          By singleness of thought and deed
          It may bloom now ___ this actual hour!
OLYMPAS.  The soul made safe, is vision sure
          To rise therein?
MARSYAS.                      Though calm and pure
          It seem, maybe some thought hath crept
          Into his mind to baulk the adept.
          The expectation of success
          Suffices to destroy the stress
          Of the one thought.  But then, what odds? 
          "Man's vision goes, dissolves in God's;"
          Or, "by God's grace the Light is given
          To the elected heir of heaven."
          These are but idle theses, dry
          Dugs of the cow Theology.
          Business is business.  The one fact
          That we know is: the gods exact
          A stainless mirror.  Cleanse thy soul!
          Perfect the will's austere control!
          For the rest, wait!  The sky once clear,
          Dawn needs no prompting to appear!
OLYMPAS.  Enough! it shall be done.
MARSYAS.                            Beware!
          Easily trips the big word "dare."
          Each man's an OEdipus, that thinks
          He hath the four powers of the Sphinx,
          Will, Courage, Knowledge, Silence.  Son,
          Even the adepts scarce win to one!
          Thy Thoughts ___ they fall like rotten fruits.
          But to destroy the power that makes
          These thoughts ___ thy Self?  A man it takes
          To tear his soul up by the roots!
          This is the mandrake fable, boy!
OLYMPAS.  You told me that the Path was joy.
MARSYAS.  A lie to lure thee!
OLYMPAS.                      Master!
MARSYAS.                                Pain
          And joy are twin toys of the brain.
          Even early visions pass beyond!
OLYMPAS.  Not all the crabbed runes I have conned  
          Told me so plain a truth.  I see,
          Inscrutable Simplicity!
          Crushed like a blind-worm by the heel
          Of all I am, perceive, and feel,
          My truth was but the partial pang
          That chanced to strike me as I sang.
MARSYAS.  In the beginning, violence
          Marks the extinction of the sense.
          Anguish and rapture rack the soul.
          These are disruptions of control.
          Self-poised, a brooding hawk, there hangs
          In the still air the adept.  The bull
          On the firm earth goes not so smooth!
          So the first fine ecstatic pangs
          Pass; balance comes.
OLYMPAS.                             How wonderful
          Are these tall avenues of truth!
MARSYAS.  So the first flash of light and terror
          Is seen as shadow, known as error.
          Next, light comes as light; as it grows
          The sense of peace still steadier glows;
          And the fierce lust, that linked the soul
          To its God, attains a chaste control.
          Intimate, an atomic bliss,
          Is the last phrasing of that kiss.
          Not ecstasy, but peace, pure peace!

          Invisible the dew sublimes
          From the great mother, subtly climbs
          And loves the leaves!  Yea, in the end, 
          Vision all vision must transcend.
          These glories are mere scaffolding
          To the Closed Palace of the King.
OLYMPAS.  Yet, saidst thou, ere the new flower shoots
          The soul is torn up by the roots.
MARSYAS.  Now come we to the intimate things
          Known to how few!  Man's being clings
          First to the outer.  Free from these
          The inner sheathings, and he sees
          Those sheathings as external.  Strip
          One after one each lovely lip
          From the full rose-but!  Ever new
          Leaps the next petal to the view.
          What binds them by Desire?  Disease
          Most dire of direful Destiny's!
OLYMPAS.  I have abandoned all to tread
          The brilliant pathway overhead!
MARSYAS.  Easy to say.  To abandon all,
          All must be first loved and possessed.
          Nor thou nor I have burst the thrall.
          All ___ as I offered half in jest,
          Sceptic ___ was torn away from me.
          Not without pain!  THEY slew my child,
          Dragged my wife down to infamy
          Loathlier than death, drove to the wild
          My tortured body, stripped me of
          Wealth, health, youth, beauty, ardour, love.
          Thou has abandoned all?  Then try
          A speck of dust within the eye!
OLYMPAS.  But that is different!  
MARSYAS.                          Life is one.
          Magic is life.  The physical
          (Men name it) is a house of call
          For the adept, heir of the sun!
          Bombard the house! it groans and gapes.
          The adept runs forth, and so escapes
          That ruin!
OLYMPAS.              Smoothly parallel
          The ruin of the mind as well?
MARSYAS.  Ay!  Hear the Ordeal of the Veil,
          The Second Veil! ... O spare me this
          Magical memory!  I pale
          To show the Veil of the Abyss.
          Nay, let confession be complete!
OLYMPAS.  Master, I bend me at thy feet ---
          Why do they sweat with blood and dew?
MARSYAS.  Blind horror catches at my breath.
          The path of the abyss runs through
          Things darker, dismaller than death!
          Courage and will!  What boots their force?
          The mind rears like a frightened horse.
          There is no memory possible
          Of that unfathomable hell.
          Even the shadows that arise
          Are things to dreadful to recount!
          There's no such doom in Destiny's
          Harvest of horror.  The white fount
          Of speech is stifled at its source.
          Know, the sane spirit keeps its course
          By this, that everything it thinks
          Hath causal or contingent links.  
          Destroy them, and destroy the mind!
          O bestial, bottomless, and blind
          Black pit of all insanity!
          The adept must make his way to thee!
          This is the end of all our pain,
          The dissolution of the brain!
          For lo! in this no mortar sticks;
          Down come the house ___ a hail of bricks!
          The sense of all I hear is drowned;
          Tap, tap, isolated sound,
          Patters, clatters, batters, chatters,
          Tap, tap, tap, and nothing matters!
          Senseless hallucinations roll
          Across the curtain of the soul.
          Each ripple on the river seems
          The madness of a maniac's dreams!
          So in the self no memory-chain
          Or causal wisp to bind the straws!
          The Self disrupted!  Blank, insane,
          Both of existence and of laws,
          The Ego and the Universe
          Fall to one black chaotic curse.
OLYMPAS.  So ends philosophy's inquiry:
          "Summa scientia nihil scire."
MARSYAS.  Ay, but that reasoned thesis lacks
          The impact of reality.
          This vision is a battle axe
          Splitting the skull.  O pardon me!
          But my soul faints, my stomach sinks.
          Let me pass on!
OLYMPAS.                      My being drinks 
          The nectar-poison of the Sphinx.
          This is a bitter medicine!
MARSYAS.  Black snare that I was taken in!
          How one may pass I hardly know.
          Maybe time never blots the track.
          Black, black, intolerably black!
          Go, spectre of the ages, go!
          Suffice it that I passed beyond.
          I found the secret of the bond
          Of thought to thought through countless years
          Through many lives, in many spheres,
          Brought to a point the dark design
          Of this existence that is mine.
          I knew my secret.  "All I was"
          I brought into the burning-glass,
          And all its focussed light and heat
          Charred "all I am."  The rune's complete
          When "all I shall be" flashes by
          Like a shadow on the sky.

          Then I dropped my reasoning.
          Vacant and accursed thing!
          By my Will I swept away
          The web of metaphysic, smiled
          At the blind labyrinth, where the grey
          Old snake of madness wove his wild
          Curse!  As I trod the trackless way
          Through sunless gorges of Cathay,
          I became a little child.
          By nameless rivers, swirling through 
          Chasms, a fantastic blue,
          Month by month, on barren hills,
          In burning heat, in bitter chills,
          Tropic forest, Tartar snow,
          Smaragdine archipelago,
          See me ___ led by some wise hand
          That I did not understand.
          Morn and noon and eve and night
          I, the forlorn eremite,
          Called on Him with mild devotion,
          As the dew-drop woos the ocean.

          In my wanderings I came
          To an ancient park aflame
          With fairies' feet.  Still wrapped in love
          I was caught up, beyond, above
          The tides of being.  The great sight
          Of the intolerable light
          Of the whole universe that wove
          The labyrinth of life and love
          Blazed in me.  Then some giant will,
          Mine or another's thrust a thrill
          Through the great vision.  All the light
          Went out in an immortal night,
          The world annihilated by
          The opening of the Master's Eye.
          How can I tell it?
OLYMPAS.                     Master, master!
          A sense of some divine disaster
          Abases me.  
MARSYAS.                    Indeed, the shrine
          Is desolate of the divine!
          But all the illusion gone, behold
          The one that is!
OLYMPAS.                      Royally rolled,
          I hear strange music in the air!
MARSYAS.  It is the angelic choir, aware
          Of the great Ordeal dared and done
          By one more Brother of the Sun!
OLYMPAS.  Master, the shriek of a great bird
          Blends with the torrent of the thunder.
MARSYAS.  It is the echo of the word
          That tore the universe asunder.
OLYMPAS.  Master, thy stature spans the sky.
MARSYAS.  Verily; but it is not I.
          The adept dissolves ___ pale phantom form
          Blown from the black mouth of the storm.
          It is another that arises!
OLYMPAS.  Yet in thee, through thee!
MARSYAS.                            I am not.
OLYMPAS.  For me thou art.
MARSYAS.                     So that suffices
          To seal thy will?  To cast thy lot
          Into the lap of God?  Then, well!
OLYMPAS.  Ay, there is no more potent spell.
          Through life, through death, by land and sea
          Most surely will I follow thee.
MARSYAS.  Follow thyself, not me.  Thou hast
          An Holy Guardian Angel, bound
          to lead thee from thy bitter waste  
          To the inscrutable profound
          That is His covenanted ground.
OLYMPAS.  Thou who hast known these master-keys
          Of all creation's mysteries,
          Tell me, what followed the great gust
          Of God that blew his world to dust?
MARSYAS.  I, even I the man, became
          As a great sword of flashing flame.
          My life, informed with holiness,
          Conscious of its own loveliness,
          Like a well that overflows
          At the limit of the snows,
          Sent its crystal stream to gladden
          The hearts of me, their lives to madden
          With the intoxicating bliss
          (Wine mixed with myrrh and ambergris!)
          Of this bitter-sweet perfume,
          This gorse's blaze of prickly bloom
          That is the Wisdom of the Way.
          Then springs the statue from the clay,
          And all God's doubted fatherhood
          Is seen to be supremely good.

          Live within the sane sweet sun!
          Leave the shadow-world alone!
OLYMPAS.  There is a crown for every one;
          For every one there is a throne!
MARSYAS.  That crown is Silence.  Sealed and sure!
          That throne is Knowledge perfect pure.
          Below that throne adoring stand 
          Virtues in a blissful band;
          Mercy, majesty and power,
          Beauty and harmony and strength,
          Triumph and splendour, starry shower
          Of flames that flake their lily length,
          A necklet of pure light, far-flung
          Down to the Base, from which is hung
          A pearl, the Universe, whose sight
          Is one globed jewel of delight.
          Fallen no more!  A bowered bride
          Blushing to be satisfied!
OLYMPAS.  All this, of once the Eye unclose?
MARSYAS.  The golden cross, the ruby rose
          Are gone, when flaming from afar
          The Hawk's eye blinds the Silver Star.

          O brothers of the Star, caressed
          By its cool flames from brow to breast,
          Is there some rapture yet to excite
          This prone and pallid neophyte?
OLYMPAS.  O but there is no need of this!
          I burn toward the abyss of Bliss.
          I call the Four Powers of the Name;
          Earth, wind and cloud, sea, smoke and flame
          To witness: by this triune Star
          I swear to break the twi-forked bar.
          But how to attain?  Flexes and leans
          The strongest will that lacks the means.
MARSYAS.  There are seven keys to the great gate,
          Being eight in one and one in eight. 
          First, let the body of thee be still,
          Bound by the cerements of will,
          Corpse-rigid; thus thou mayst abort
          The fidget-babes that tense the thought.
          Next, let the breath-rhythm be low,
          Easy, regular, and slow;
          So that thy being be in tune
          With the great sea's Pacific swoon.
          Third, let thy life be pure and calm
          Swayed softly as a windless palm.
          Fourth, let the will-to-live be bound
          To the one love of the Profound.
          Fifth, let the thought, divinely free
          From sense, observe its entity.
          Watch every thought that springs; enhance
          Hour after hour thy vigilance!
          Intense and keen, turned inward, miss
          No atom of analysis!
          Sixth, 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!
          Next, still that ecstasy, prolong
          Thy meditation steep and strong,
          Slaying even God, should He distract
          Thy attention from the chosen act!
          Last, all these things in one o'erpowered,
          Time that the midnight blossom flowered!
          The oneness is.  Yet even in this,
          My son, thou shalt not do amiss  
          If thou restrain the expression, shoot
          Thy glance to rapture's darkling root,
          Discarding name, form, sight, and stress
          Even of this high consciousness;
          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!
OLYMPAS.  Ah, but no ease may lap my limbs.
          Giants and sorcerers oppose;
          Ogres and dragons are my foes!
          Leviathan against me swims,
          And lions roar, and Boreas blows!
          No Zephyrs woo, no happy hymns
          Paean the Pilgrim of the Rose!
MARSYAS.  I teach the royal road of light.
          Be thou, devoutly eremite,
          Free of thy fate.  Choose tenderly
          A place for thine Academy.
          Let there be an holy wood
          Of embowered solitude
          By the still, the rainless river,
          Underneath the tangled roots
          Of majestic trees that quiver
          In the quiet airs; where shoots
          Of the kindly grass are green
          Moss and ferns asleep between,
          Lilies in the water lapped,
          Sunbeams in the branches trapped
          ___ Windless and eternal even!
          Silenced all the birds of heaven  
          By the low insistent call
          Of the constant waterfall.
          There, to such a setting be
          Its carven gem of deity,
          A central flawless fire, enthralled
          Like Truth within an emerald!
          Thou shalt have a birchen bark
          On the river in the dark;
          And at the midnight thou shalt go
          to the mid-stream's smoothest flow,
          And strike upon a golden bell
          The spirit's call; then say the spell:
          "Angel, mine angel, draw thee nigh!"
          Making the Sign of Magistry
          With wand of lapis lazuli.
          Then, it may be, through the blind dumb
          Night thou shalt see thine angel come,
          Hear the faint whisper of his wings,
          Behold the starry breast begemmed
          With the twelve stones of the twelve kings!
          His forehead shall be diademed
          With the faint light of stars, wherein
          The Eye gleams dominant and keen.
          Thereat thou swoonest; and thy love
          Shall catch the subtle voice thereof.
          He shall inform his happy lover:
          My foolish prating shall be over!
OLYMPAS.  O now I burn with holy haste.
          This doctrine hath so sweet a taste
          That all the other wine is sour.
MARSYAS.  Son, there's a bee for every flower. 
          Lie open, a chameleon cup,
          And let Him suck thine honey up!
OLYMPAS.  There is one doubt.  When souls attain
          Such an unimagined gain
          Shall not others mark them, wise
          Beyond mere mortal destinies?
MARSYAS.  Such are not the perfect saints.
          While the imagination faints
          Before their truth, they veil it close
          As amid the utmost snows
          The tallest peaks most straitly hide
          With clouds their holy heads.  Divide
          The planes!  Be ever as you can
          A simple honest gentleman!
          Body and manners be at ease,
          Not bloat with blazoned sanctities!
          Who fights as fights the soldier-saint?
          And see the artist-adept paint!
          Weak are those souls that fear the stress
          Of earth upon their holiness!
          They fast, they eat fantastic food,
          They prate of beans and brotherhood,
          Wear sandals, and long hair, and spats,
          And think that makes them Arahats!
          How shall man still his spirit-storm?
          Rational Dress and Food Reform!
OLYMPAS.  I know such saints.
MARSYAS.                      An easy vice:
          So wondrous well they advertise!
          O their mean souls are satisfied 
          With wind of spiritual pride.
          They're all negation.  "Do not eat;
          What poison to the soul is meat!
          Drink not; smoke not; deny the will!
          Wine and tobacco make us ill."
          Magic is life; the Will to Live
          Is one supreme Affirmative.
          These things that flinch from Life are worth
          No more to Heaven than to Earth.
          Affirm the everlasting Yes!
OLYMPAS.  Those saints at least score one success:
          Perfection of their priggishness!
MARSYAS.  Enough.  The soul is subtlier fed
          With meditation's wine and bread.
          Forget their failings and our own;
          Fix all our thoughts on Love alone!

          Ah, boy, all crowns and thrones above
          Is the sanctity of love.
          In His warm and secret shrine
          Is a cup of perfect wine,
          Whereof one drop is medicine
          Against all ills that hurt the soul.
          A flaming daughter of the Jinn
          Brought to me once a wingŠd scroll,
          Wherein I read the spell that brings
          The knowledge of that King of Kings.
          Angel, I invoke thee now!
          Bend on me the starry brow!
          Spread the eagle wings above 
          The pavilion of our love! ....
          Rise from your starry sapphire seats!
          See, where through the quickening skies
          The oriflamme of beauty beats
          Heralding loyal legionaries,
          Whose flame of golden javelins
          Fences those peerless paladins.
          There are the burning lamps of them,
          Splendid star-clusters to begem
          The trailing torrents of those blue
          Bright wings that bear mine angel through!
          O Thou art like an Hawk of Gold,
          Miraculously manifold,
          For all the sky's aflame to be
          A mirror magical of Thee!
          The stars seem comets, rushing down
          To gem thy robes, bedew thy crown.
          Like the moon-plumes of a strange bird
          By a great wind sublimely stirred,
          Thou drawest the light of all the skies
          Into thy wake.  The heaven dies
          In bubbling froth of light, that foams
          About thine ardour.  All the domes
          Of all the heavens close above thee
          As thou art known of me who love thee.
          Excellent kiss, thou fastenest on
          This soul of mine, that it is gone,
          Gone from all life, and rapt away
          Into the infinite starry spray
          Of thine own AEon ... Alas for me!  
          I faint.  Thy mystic majesty
          Absorbs this spark.
OLYMPAS.                        All hail! all hail!
          White splendour through the viewless veil!
          I am drawn with thee to rapture.
OLYMPAS.                                   Stay!
          I bear a message.  Heaven hath sent
          The knowledge of a new sweet way
          Into the Secret Element.
OLYMPAS.  Master, while yet the glory clings
          Declare this mystery magical!
MARSYAS.  I am yet borne on those blue wings
          Into the Essence of the All.
          Now, now I stand on earth again,
          Though, blazing through each nerve and vein,
          The light yet holds its choral course,
          Filling my frame with fiery force
          Like God's.  Now hear the Apocalypse
          New-fledged on these reluctant lips!
OLYMPAS.  I tremble like an aspen, quiver
          Like light upon a rainy river!
MARSYAS.  Do what thou wilt! is the sole word
          Of law that my attainment heard.
          Arise, and lay thine hand on God!
          Arise, and set a period
          Unto Restriction!  That is sin:
          To hold thine holy spirit in!
          O thou that chafest at thy bars,
          Invoke Nuit beneath her stars
          With a pure heart (Her incense burned  
          Of gums and woods, in gold inurned),
          And let the serpent flame therein
          A little, and thy soul shall win
          To lie within her bosom.  Lo!
          Thou wouldst give all ___ and she cries: No!
          Take all, and take me!  Gather spice
          And virgins and great pearls of price!
          Worship me in a single robe,
          Crowned richly!  Girdle of the globe,
          I love thee!  Pale and purple, veiled,
          Voluptuous, swan silver-sailed,
          I love thee.  I am drunkness
          Of the inmost sense; my soul's caress
          Is toward thee!  Let my priestess stand
          Bare and rejoicing, softly fanned
          By smooth-lipped acolytes, upon
          Mine iridescent altar-stone,
          And in her love-chaunt swooningly
          Say evermore:  To me!  To me!
          I am the azure-lidded daughter
          Of sunset; the all-girdling water;
          The naked brilliance of the sky
          In the voluptuous night am I!
          With song, with jewel, with perfume,
          Wake all my rose's blush and bloom!
          Drink to me!  Love me!  I love thee,
          My love, my lord ___ to me! to me!
OLYMPAS.  There is no harshness in the breath
          Of this ___ is life surpassed, and death?
MARSYAS.  There is the Snake that gives delight 
          And Knowledge, stirs the heart aright
          With drunkenness.  Strange drugs are thine,
          Hadit, and draughts of wizard wine!
          These do no hurt.  Thine hermits dwell
          Not in the cold secretive cell,
          But under purple canopies
          With mighty-breasted mistresses
          Magnificent as lionesses ___
          Tender and terrible caresses!
          Fire lives, and light, in eager eyes;
          And massed huge hair about them lies.
          They lead their hosts to victory:
          In every joy they are kings; then see
          That secret serpent coiled to spring
          And win the world!  O priest and king,
          Let there be feasting, foining, fighting,
          A revel of lusting, singing, smiting!
          Work; be the bed of work!  Hold!  Hold!
          the stars' kiss is as molten gold.
          Harden!  Hold thyself up! now die ---
          Ah!  Ah!  Exceed!  Exceed!
OLYMPAS.                                And I?
MARSYAS.  My stature shall surpass the stars:
          He hath said it!  Men shall worship me
          In hidden woods, on barren scaurs,
          Henceforth to all eternity.
OLYMPAS.  Hail!  I adore thee!  Let us feast.
MARSYAS.  I am the consecrated Beast.
          I build the Abominable House.
          The Scarlet Woman is my Spouse ___  
OLYMPAS.  What is this word?
MARSYAS.                       Thou canst not know
          Till thou hast passed the Fourth Ordeal.
OLYMPAS.  I worship thee.  The moon-rays flow
          Masterfully rich and real
          From thy red mouth, and burst, young suns
          Chanting before the Holy Ones
          Thine Eight Mysterious Orisons!
MARSYAS.  The last spell!  The availing word!
          The two completed by the third!
          The Lord of War, of Vengeance
          That slayeth with a single glance!
          This light is in me of my Lord.
          His Name is this far-whirling sword.
          I push His order.  Keen and swift
          My Hawk's eye flames; these arms uplift
          The Banner of Silence and of Strength ___
          Hail!  Hail! thou art here, my Lord, at length!
          Lo, the Hawk-Headed Lord am I:
          My nemyss shrouds the night-blue sky.
          Hail! ye twin warriors that guard
          The pillars of the world!  Your time
          Is nigh at hand.  The snake that marred
          Heaven with his inexhaustible slime
          Is slain; I bear the Wand of Power,
          The Wand that waxes and that wanes;
          I crush the Universe this hour
          In my left hand; and naught remains!
          Ho! for the splendour in my name
          Hidden and glorious, a flame 
          Secretly shooting from the sun.
          Aum!  Ha! ___ my destiny is done.
          The Word is spoken and concealed.
OLYMPAS.  I am stunned.  What wonder was revealed?
MARSYAS.  The rite is secret.
OLYMPAS.                  Profits it?
MARSYAS.  Only to wisdom and to wit.
OLYMPAS.  The other did no less.
MARSYAS.                        Then prove
          Both by the master-key of Love.
          The lock turns stiffly?  Shalt thou shirk
          To use the sacred oil of work?
          Not from the valley shalt thou test
          The eggs that line the eagle's nest!
          Climb, with thy life at stake, the ice,
          The sheer wall of the precipice!
          Master the cornice, gain the breach,
          And learn what next the ridge can teach!
          Yet ___ not the ridge itself may speak
          The secret of the final peak.
OLYMPAS.  All ridges join at last.
MARSYAS.                           Admitted,
          O thou astute and subtle-witted!
          Yet one ___ loose, jaggŠd, clad in mist!
          Another ___ firm, smooth, loved and kissed
          By the soft sun!  Our order hath
          This secret of the solar path,
          Even as our Lord the Beast hath won
          The mystic Number of the Sun.
OLYMPAS.  These secrets are too high for me. 
MARSYAS.  Nay, little brother!  Come and see!
          Neither by faith nor fear nor awe
          Approach the doctrine of the Law!
          Truth, Courage, Love, shall win the bout,
          And those three others be cast out.
OLYMPAS.  Lead me, Master, by the hand
          Gently to this gracious land!
          Let me drink the doctrine in,
          An all-healing medicine!
          Let me rise, correct and firm,
          Steady striding to the term,
          Master of my fate, to rise
          To imperial destinies;
          With the sun's ensanguine dart
          Spear-bright in my blazing heart,
          And my being's basil-plant
          Bright and hard as adamant!
MARSYAS.  Yonder, faintly luminous,
          The yellow desert waits for us.
          Lithe and eager, hand in hand,
          We travel to the lonely land.
          There, beneath the stars, the smoke
          Of our incense shall invoke
          The Queen of Space; and subtly She
          Shall bend from Her infinity
          Like a lambent flame of blue,
          Touching us, and piercing through
          All the sense-webs that we are
          As the aethyr penetrates a star!
          Her hands caressing the black earth, 
          Her sweet lithe body arched for love,
          Her feet a Zephyr to the flowers,
          She calls my name ___ she gives the sign
          That she is mine, supremely mine,
          And clinging to the infinite girth
          My soul gets perfect joy thereof
          Beyond the abysses and the hours;
          So that ___ I kiss her lovely brows;
          She bathes my body in perfume
          Of sweat .... O thou my secret spouse,
          Continuous One of Heaven! illume
          My soul with this arcane delight,
          Volumptuous Daughter of the Night!
          Eat me up wholly with the glance
          Of thy luxurious brilliance!
OLYMPAS.  The desert calls.
MARSYAS.                    Then let us go!
          Or seek the sacramental snow,
          Where like a high-priest I may stand
          With acolytes on every hand,
          The lesser peaks ___ my will withdrawn
          To invoke the dayspring from the dawn,
          Changing that rosy smoke of light
          To a pure crystalline white;
          Though the mist of mind, as draws
          A dancer round her limbs the gauze,
          Clothe Light, and show the virgin Sun
          A lemon-pale medallion!
          Thence leap we leashless to the goal,
          Stainless star-rapture of the soul. 
          So the altar-fires fade
          As the Godhead is displayed.
          Nay, we stir not.  Everywhere
          Is our temple right appointed.
          All the earth is faery fair
          For us.  Am I not anointed?
          The Sigil burns upon the brow
          At the adjuration ___ here and now.
OLYMPAS.  The air is laden with perfumes.
MARSYAS.  Behold!  It beams ___ it burns ___ it blooms.
 *           *           *               *              *
OLYMPAS.  Master, how subtly hast thou drawn
          The daylight from the Golden Dawn,
          Bidden the Cavernous Mount unfold
          Its Ruby Rose, its Cross of Gold;
          Until I saw, flashed from afar,
          The Hawk's eye in the Silver Star!
MARSYAS.  Peace to all beings.  Peace to thee,
          Co-heir of mine eternity!
          Peace to the greatest and the least,
          To nebula and nenuphar!
          Light in abundance be increased
          On them that dream that shadows are!
OLYMPAS.  Blessing and worship to The Beast,
          The prophet of the lovely Star!



                                     -oOo-

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