"A.J. Rose" (Jonathan) (ajrose93) wrote,
"A.J. Rose" (Jonathan)
ajrose93

Pomes, You Say...? (Finally!)

[Well, this has been fun. The recent rains in L.A. apparently seeped into a fault somewhere in the Verizon phone lines, making the local dialup connection impossible, unstable or brief by turns...and in the middle of all that, lj's "rich text" format went funky, too (and apparently still is, so my careful entry of AC's empty spaces below is probably (no, make that definitely) screwed). Anyway, I'd planned to post the following, then get back to the question of "evil" (and why we don't need cosmic absolutes like "evil" to recognize something as anti-human, crummy & wrong), and follow that with an election endorsement (hint: IMO, it's time for a change), and then maybe remind people that O.T.O. was in fact designed to be a monarchy...but oh, well, we'll see: time was better last week, and now it's not. :P In the meantime, at least we can post what I'd hoped to, last week sometime -- when folks were still posting verse. :) ]

93!

I recently mentioned Uncle Al's 1904 EV announcement (in The Sword of Song) of his program to reform humankind. What with everybody posting favorite poems of late, here's one of mine: his "Preliminary Invocation" to that very work, its title the name of Siegfried's sword. He was under thirty years of age when he wrote this; he would spend the rest of his life working to fulfil it. A century later, I am happy to say that he's attracted a lot of like minds: looking ever forward, determined to carry it on.

The whole thing always gives me goosebumps, which usually start up at lines three and four. :)

93 93/93 -- AJ

NOTHUNG.

THE crowns of Gods and mortals wither;
Moons fade where constellations shone;
Numberless aeons brought us hither;
Numberless aeons beckon us on.
The world is old, and I am strong --
Awake, awake, O Sword of Song!

Here, in the Dusk of Gods, I linger;
The world awaits a Word of Truth.
Kindle, O lyre, beneath my finger!
Evoke the age's awful youth!
To arms against the inveterate wrong!
Awake, awake, O Sword of Song!

Sand-founded reels the House of Faith;
Up screams the howl of ruining sect;
Out from the shrine flits the lost Wraith;
"God hath forsaken His elect!"
Confusion sweeps upon the throng --
Awake, awake, O Sword of Song!

Awake to wound, awake to heal
By wounding, thou resistless sword!
Raise the prone priestcrafts that appeal
In agony to their prostrate Lord!
Raise the duped herd -- they have suffered long!
Awake, awake, O Sword of Song!

My strength this agony of the age
Win through; my music charm the old
Sorrow of years: my warfare wage
By iron to an age of gold: --
The world is old, and I am strong --
Awake, awake, O Sword of Song!

-- Aleister Crowley
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