Old Night

Thou hermit of Old Night who wadest into the turbulence of the waters
un-drowned, who verily enters into death’s magisterium without fear,
thou whose toil is the ineffable work of the abyss that draws forth the all
slaying solve, thou art amongst the deathless race of the kingless,
beyond the provenance of god
In the light of Lucifer’s dawn, thy shadow casts long and dim before thee
In the pitch of Noctifer"s saturnine night thy shadow is the very face of the
abyss
Oh vajra-hearted lord enthroned within the silence between the birth and death
of every thought, in thronismos within the shadowed temple at the crux of the
cruciform!
Yet shall the very abyss of thought be wholly illuminated by the gleam from thy
morningstar lantern, the fruit plucked from the deepest root
To guide the pandemonion of self unto the scarlet hill of martyrdom,
upon the path that even devas are cursed to tread
Thou hast withdrawn the husks of the most bitter seed and the garments from the
gods themselves, to reach the hypostasis that is a black pearl dazzling the 7
aeons
Betwixt the hammer and anvil of becoming is thy presence eternal that is in
between-ness known as N.O.X. Self-murderer and Self-begetter, with eyes fixed
unto the cup of Djemscheed, thou breakest the chains forged by stellar gravity
Oh, the motionless movement of Death! With both the soberness of the Amethyst
and the mad Satyr’s ecstatic thirst, leap ye forth into the Mandala’s center
The Point where sun and moon collide, crushed to lifeless splinters before
ancient Night’s hollow eye