Tag Archives: flame

In Nomine Babalon, XXXVII

XXXVII

The sun’s own flame buring inside Your heart

With the fiery malice of Hades’ black art;

Belching out liquid fire, a tide of crimson!

I raise up the cup and adore Babalon!

— In Nomine Babalon: 156 Adorations to the Scarlet Goddess

 

The Hermetic Library arts and letters pool is a project to publish poetry, prose and art that is inspired by or manifests the Western Esoteric Tradition. If you would like to submit your work for consideration as part of the Arts and Letters pool, contact the librarian.

In Nomine Babalon, XXXII

XXXII

O harlot! O whore! O Thou without shame,

Illuminate me with Thy mystical flame!

Thy seal on my heart will be burnt upon,

I raise up the cup and adore Babalon!

— In Nomine Babalon: 156 Adorations to the Scarlet Goddess

 

The Hermetic Library arts and letters pool is a project to publish poetry, prose and art that is inspired by or manifests the Western Esoteric Tradition.

Concerning Death by Aleister Crowley in International, Dec 1917.

“LISTEN again to thine own voice within thee. Is not Hadit the flame that burns in every heart of man, and in the core of every star? Is not He Life, and the giver of Life? And is not therefore the knowledge of Him the knowledge of Death? For it hath been shown unto thee in many other places how Death and Love be twins.” [via]

Concerning Death by Aleister Crowley in International, Dec 1917.

“Behold her bending down above thee, a flame of blue, all-touching, all-penetrant, her lovely hands upon the black earth and her lithe body arched for love, and her soft feet not hurting the little flowers, and think that all thy grossness shall presently fall from thee as thou leanest to her embrace, caught up into her love as a dewdrop into the kisses of the sunrise.” [via]

Egyptian Magic in Egyptian Magic by Florence Farr.

“I come as the Ambassador of the Lord of Lords to avenge the cause of Osiris in this Place. Let the Eye consume its tears. I am the Guide to the House of Him Who dwelleth in His Treasures. I travel on high, I tread upon the Firmament, I raise a flame with the lightning which mine eye hath made, and I fly forward towards the Splendours of the Glorified in the presence of the Sun, who daily giveth Life to every man who walketh about the habitations of the earth.” [via]

Synthesis in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“It is ill to blaspheme the silence with a wicked whispered thought—
How still they were, those nights! when this web of things was wrought!
How still, how terrible! O my dolorous tender brides,
As I lay and dreamt in the dark by your shameful beautiful sides!
And now you are mine no more, I know; but I cannot bear
The curse—that another is drunk on the life that stirs your hair:
Every hair was alive with a spark of midnight’s delicate flame,
Or a glow of the nether fire, or an old illustrious shame.” [via]

The Reaper in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“I watched, a leopard, stealthy in the corn,
As if a tigress held herself above;
My body quivered, eager to be torn,
Stung by the snake of some convulsive love!
The leopard changed his spots; for in me leapt
The mate, the tiger. Murderous I sprang
Across the mellow earth: my senses swept,
One torrent flame, one soul-dissolving pang.
How queenly bent her body to the grip!
How lithe it slips, her bosom to my own!
The throat leans back, to tantalise the lip:—
The sudden shame of her is overthrown!” [via]

The Nameless Quest in The Gate of the Sanctuary from The Temple of the Holy Ghost (Collected Works, Vol I) by Aleister Crowley.

“The king was silent. None of us would stir.
I sat, struck dumb, a living sepulchre.
For—hear me! in my heart this thing became
My sacrament, my pentecostal flame.
And with it grew a fear—a fear of Her.
What Her? Shame had not found itself a name.
Simply I knew it in myself. I brood
Ten years—so seemed it—O! the bitter food
In my mouth nauseate! In the silent hall
One might have heard God’s sparrow in its fall.
But I was lost in mine own solitude—
I should not hear Mikhael’s trumpet-call.
Yet there did grow a clamour shrill and loud:
One cursed, one crossed himself, another vowed
His soul against the quest; the tumult ran
Indecorous in that presence, man to man.
Stilled suddenly, beholding how I bowed
My soul in thought: another cry began.
‘Gereth the dauntless! Gereth of the Sea!
Gereth the loyal! Child of royalty!
witch-mothered Gereth! Sword above the strong,
heart pure, head many-wiled!’ The knightly throng
Clamour my name, and flattering words, to me—
If they may ‘scape the quest—I do them wrong;
They are my friends! Yet something terrible
Rings in the manly music that they swell.
They are all caught in this immense desire
Deeper than heaven, tameless as the fire.
All catch the fear—the fear of Her—as well,
And dare not—even afraid, I must aspire.” [via]