It includes my Gulliver.
My blog's formatting is either out to get me or trying to commit suicide. You decide.
A man ambushed a stone. Caught it.
Made it a prisoner.
Put it in a dark room and stood guard over it for the rest of his life.
His mother asked why.
He said, because it's held captive, because it is captured.
Look, the stone is asleep, she said, it does not know whether it's in a garden or not. Eternity and the stone
are mother and daughter; it is you who are getting old. The stone is only sleeping.
But I caught it, mother, it is mine by conquest, he said.
A stone is nobody's, not even its own. It is you who are conquered; you are minding the prisoner, which is yourself,
because you are afraid to go out, she said.
Yes yes, I am afraid, because you have never loved me, he said.
Which is true, because you have always been to me as the stone is to you, she said.
Russell Edson
Mother of Light, and the Gods! Mother of Music, awake!
Silence and speech are at odds; Heaven and Hell are at stake.
By the Rose and the Cross I conjure;
I constrain by the Snake and the Sword;
I am he that is sworn to endure -Bring us the word of the Lord!
from The Interpreter by Aleister Crowley
I wait for thee, my soul distraught
With aching for some nameless naught
In its most arcane crypt-
Am I not fit to endure thee?
...
Thou whose mouth is a flame
With its seven-edged sword proceeding,
Come! I am writhing with despair
Like a snake taken in a snare,
Moaning thy mystical name
Till my tongue is torn and bleeding!
Have I not gilded my nails
And painted my lips with vermillion?
Yea! thou art I; the deed awakes,
Thy lightening strikes; thy thunder breaks
Wild as the bride that wails
In the bridegroom's plumed pavillion!
from Ave Adonai by Aleister Crowley
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