The Two Loves in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.
“The clouds are parted: yes! And there above
I bathe in ether and self-shining light;
My soul is filled with eternal love;
I am the brother of the Day and Night.” [via]
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Consider also:
- “But we, one joy, one love, one shame for leaven, Quit hope and life, quit fear and death and love, Implacable as God, desired above All loves of hell or heaven, supremely wed, Knit in one soul in one delicious bed More hot than hell, more wicked than all things, Vast in our sin, whose unredeeming wings Rise o’er the world, and flap for lust of death, Eager as anyone that travaileth”
- “Then, one immaculate divinest whole, Plunge, fire, within all fire, dive far to death; Till, like king Satan’s sympathetic breath, Burn on us as a voice from far above Strange nameless elements of fire and love; And we, one mouth to kiss, one soul to lure, For ever, wedded, one, divine, endure Far from sun, sea, and spring from love or light, Imbedded in impenetrable night; Deeper than ocean, higher than the sky, Vaster than petty loves that dream and die, Insatiate, angry, terrible for lust, Who shrivel God to adamantine dust By our fierce gaze upon him, who would strive Under our wrath, to flee away, to dive Into the deep recesses of his heaven.”
- “Oh! my pure heart! Adulterous love began So subtly to identify the man With its own perfumed thoughts. So steals the grape Into the furtive brain–a spirit shape Kisses my spirit as no woman can. I love her–yes; and I have no escape. I never spoke, I never looked! But she Saw through the curtains of the soul of me, And loved me also! It is very well. I am well started on the road to Hell.”
- “Love, I love you! Night, night, cover us! Thou art night, O my love; and there are no stars but thine eyes.”
- “Night came upon me thus–a wizard hand Grasping with silence the reluctant land. Through night I clomb–behind me grew the light Reflected in the portal of the night. I reached the crest at dawn–pallid I stand, Uncomprehending of the sudden sight. The river and the bridge! The river flows, Tears of young orphans for its limpid woes. The red bridge quivers–how my spirit starts, Its seeming glory built of widows’ hearts! And yet I could disdain it–heaven knows I had no dear ones for their counterparts.