Our chariot is drawn by doves.
Of mother-of-pearl and ivory is our chariot and
the reins thereof are the heart-strings of men.
Every moment that we fly shall cover an aeon.
And every place on which we rest shall be a young
universe rejoicing in its strength; the meadows thereof
shall be covered with flowers.
There shall we rest but a night, and in the morning
we shall flee away, comforted.
The price of the journey is little, though its name be death.
Thou shalt die to all that thou fearest and hopest and
hatest and lovest and thinkest and art.
Yea! thou shalt die, even as thou must die.
For all that thou hast, thou hast not;
all that thou art, thou art not!
Thou art a partaker of the five-fold mystery.
Thou must roll up the ten divine ones like a
scroll, and fashion therefrom a star.
Yet must thou blot out the star in the heart of Hadit.
If once I put thee apart from me, it was the joy of play.
Is not the ebb and flowing of the tide a music of the sea?
Come, let us mount unto Nuit our mother and be lost!
Let being be emptied in the infinite abyss!
For by me only shalt thou mount;
thou hast none other wings than mine.
“The Cry of the 24th Aethyr”
Which is Called NIA
THE VISION AND THE VOICE