Tag Archives: hearts

In Nomine Babalon, IC

IC

We pass from this life and dissolve into naught

And our hearts are weighed with the feather of Maat.

Escort me to your eternal mansion;

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.

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

“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.” [via]

William Blake and the Imagination in Ideas of Good and Evil by William Butler Yeats.

“The reason, and by the reason he meant deductions from the observations of the senses, binds us to mortality because it binds us to the senses, and divides us from each other by showing us our clashing interests; but imagination divides us from mortality by the immortality of beauty, and binds us to each other by opening the secret doors of all hearts.” [via]

William Blake and the Imagination in Ideas of Good and Evil by William Butler Yeats.

“We write of great writers, even of writers whose beauty would once have seemed an unholy beauty, with rapt sentences like those our fathers kept for the beatitudes and mysteries of the Church; and no matter what we believe with our lips, we believe with our hearts that beautiful things, as Browning said in his one prose essay that was not in verse, have ‘lain burningly on the Divine hand,’ and that when time has begun to wither, the Divine hand will fall heavily on bad taste and vulgarity.” [via]