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All day I type record—also
attempt to clean paint from court. No lye, no water
to rinse after scrubbing. At 2:45 try occult work,
but nothing definite ascent. I stand by the vault of
light, high upon the rock of November 2 and A.C.
clad in red, comes up the steps. I can get nothing
regarding his mood or reason for being there.
Later. My being swells out and
floods the universe! One I love has been with me!
Held in as a secret and blessed
chrism. So do I hold thee, O beloved, who hast the
wide heavens in which to spread thy wings! |