What is the tumult among the stars that have shone so still till now? What are the furrows of pain and wrath upon the immortal brow? Why is the face of God turned grey and his angels all grown white? What is the terrible ruby star that burns down the crimson night? What is the beauty that flames so bright athwart the awful dawn? She has taken flesh, she is come to judge the thrones ye rule upon. Quail ye kings for an end is come in the birth of BABALON.
The birth of Babalon
(John Whiteside Parsons, 1914 -1952)