He riddled me — ah, God! I see it now!
The bloody winepress? The ascending sun?
Thy dawning beauty and thine evil bed!
The double meaning! I had evil thoughts
When I pronounced it — else had She Herself,
Hathoör or Mary, risen. Misery!
Incessant mystery of the search for Truth!
Aleister Crowley, Tannhäuser
For I must pass
Desolate into the dusk of things again,
Having risen so far to fall to the abyss,
Deeper for exaltation; I must go
Wailing and naked into the inane
Cavernous shrineless place of misery,
Forgetful, hateful, impotent, except
The last initiation seize my soul,
And fling me into Isis’ very self,
The immortal, mortal.
Aleister Crowley, The Fatal Force
