O NIGHT! the very mother of us all,
For from thy hollow womb we children came,
A little space to flicker as a flame,
And then within thy tender arms to fall
Tired, fain of nothing but to lie at last
Upon thy bosom, and gaze in thine eyes
Clear, calm, dispassionate, supremely wise,
And pass with thee the gates that must be passed
Aleister crowley (1875 – 1947)
Sonnets to Night
From “Songs of the Spirit” (1898)
Photo: Private
Vadstena Abbey church Cemetery
Vadstena, Östergötland County, Sweden
Mors Certa – Hora incerta
“Death is certain, the hour is not”
