Old and wandering soul 
The Possessor of intense defiance
You ate the fruits of the half-hearted
Spinning gray dreams

Pull back and recoil in silence
The boastful masses consume

Part the tall grass blades
There are formed hollow hills 
Beneath where skeleton bones lay 
Watchers of the opposition
They’re drifting downward
The link to attainment withstanding

The Way

On soft earth trodden by few 
Let the blood moon guide you 
Reject him
He spreads its sickness


The Way

Sleepless

Tainted

Climbing Road

Aiwass! Confirm my troth with thee ! my will inspire
With secret sperm of subtle, free, creating Fire!
Moulde thou my very flesh as Thine, renew my birth
In childhood merry as divine, enchanted earth!
Dissolve my rapture in Thine own, a sacred slaughter
Whereby to capture and atone the soul of water!
Fill thou my mind with gleaming Thought intense and rare
To One refined, out flung to naught, the Word of Air!
Most, bridal bound, my quintessentil Form thus freeing
From self, be found one Selfhood blent in Spirit Being. 

An Oath (Recitation)

In the Years of the Primal Course, in the dawn of terrestrial birth,
Man mastered the mammoth and horse, and Man was the Lord of the Earth.

He made him an hollow skin from the heart of an holy tree,
He compassed the earth therein, and Man was the Lord of the Sea.

He controlled the vigor of steam, he harnessed the lightening for hire;
He drove the celestial team, and man was the Lord of the Fire.

Deep-mouthed from their thrones deep-seated, the choirs of the aeons declare
The last of the demons defeated, for Man is the Lord of the Air.

Arise, O Man, in thy strength! the kingdom is thine to inherit,
Till the high gods witness at length that Man is the Lord of his spirit. 

The Pentagram (Recitation)

The serpent dips his head beneath the sea
His mother, source of all his energy
Eternal, thence to draw the strength he needs
On earth to do indomitable deeds
Once more; and they, who saw but understood
Naught of his nature of beatitude
Were awed: they murmured with abated breath;
Alas the Master; so he sinks in death.
But whoso knows the mystery of man
Sees life and death as curves of one same plan. 

ChaukStuttning

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