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The Cry of the 2nd Æthyr, Which is Called ARN (3rd attempt)
Flashes of lightning are playing in the Stone, at the top; and at the bottom of the Stone there is a black pyramid, and at the top thereof is a vesica piscis. The vesica piscis is of colourless brilliance.
The two curves of Pisces are thus:
They are the same curves as the curves of vesica piscis, but turned round.
And a voice comes: How can that which is buried in the pyramids behold that which descendeth unto its apex?
Again it comes to me, without voice: Therefore is motherhood the symbol of the Masters. For first they must give up their virginity to be destroyed, and the seed must lie hidden in them until the nine moons wax and wane, and they must surround it with the Universal Fluid. And they must feed it with the blood for fire. Then is the child a living thing. And afterwards is much suffering and much joy, and after that are they torn asunder, and this is all their thank, that they give it to suck.
All this while the vision in the Shew-Stone stays as it was, save that the lightning grows more vehement and clear; and behind the vesica piscis is a black cross extending to the top and to the edges of the Stone. And now blackness spreads, and swallows up the images.
Now there is naught but a vast black triangle having the apex downwards, and in the centre of the black triangle is the face of Typhon, the Lord of the Tempest, and he crieth aloud: Despair! Despair! For thou mayest deceive the Virgin, and thou mayest cajole the Mother; but what wilt thou say unto the ancient Whore that is throned in Eternity? For if she will not, there is neither force nor cunning, nor any wit, that may prevail upon her.
Thou canst not woo her with love, for she is love. And she hath all, and hath no need of thee.
And thou canst not woo her with gold, for all the Kings and captains of the earth, and all the gods of heaven, have showered their gold upon her. Thus hath she all, and hath no need of thee.
And thou canst not woo her with knowledge, for knowledge is the thing that she hath spurned. She hath it all, and hath no need of thee.
And thou canst not woo her with wit, for her Lord is Wit.
She hath it all, and hath no need of thee. Despair! Despair!
Nor canst thou cling to her knees and ask for pity; nor canst thou cling to her heart and ask for love; nor canst thou put thine arms about her neck, and ask for understanding; for thou had all these46, and they avail thee not. Despair! Despair!
Then I took the Flaming Sword, and I let it loose against Typhon, so that his head was cloven asunder, and the black triangle dissolved in lightnings.
But as he parted his voice broke out again: Nor canst thou win her with the Sword, for her eyes are fixed upon the eyes of Him in whose hand is the hilt of the Sword. Despair! Despair!
And the echo of that cry was his word, which is identical, although it be diverse: Nor canst thou win her by the Serpent, for it was the Serpent that seduced her first. Despair! Despair!
(Yet he cried thus as he fled:)
I am Leviathan, the great Lost Serpent of the Sea. I writhe eternally in torment, and I lash the ocean with my tail into a whirlpool of foam that is venomous and bitter, and I have no purpose. I go no whither. I can neither live nor die. I can but rave and rave in my death agony. I am the Crocodile that eateth up the children of men. And through the malice of BABALON I hunger, hunger, hunger.
All this while the Stone is more inert than ever yet; a thousand times more lifeless than when it is not invoked. Now, when it kindles, it only kindles into its physical beauty. And now upon the face of it is a great black Rose, each of whose petals, though it be featureless, is yet a devil-face. And all the stalks are the black snakes of hell. It is alive, this Rose; a single thought informs it. It comes to clutch, to murder. Yet, because a single thought alone informs it, I have hope therein.
I think the Rose has a hundred and fifty-six petals, and though it be black, it has the luminous blush.
There it is, in the midst of the Stone, and I cannot see anyone who wears it.
Aha! Aha! Aha! Shut out the sight!
Holy, Holy, Holy art thou!
Light, Life and Love are like three glow-worms at thy feet: the whole universe of stars, the dewdrops on the grass whereon thou walkest!
I am quite blind.
Thou art Nuit! Strain, strain, strain my whole soul!
A ka dua Tuf ur biu Bi a'a chefu Dudu ner af an nuteru.[1]
Falutli! Falutli!
I cling unto the burning Æthyr like Lucifer that fell through the Abyss, and by the fury of his flight kindled the air.
And I am Belial, for having seen the Rose upon thy breast, I have denied God.
And I am Satan! I am Satan! I am cast out upon a burning crag! And the sea boils about the desolation thereof. And already the vultures gather, and feast upon my flesh.
Yea! Before thee all the most holy is profane, O thou desolator of shrines! O thou falsifier of the oracles of truth! Ever as I went, hath it been thus. The truth of the profane was the falsehood of the Neophyte, and the truth of the Neophyte was the falsehood of the Zelator! Again and again the fortress must be battered down! pylon must be over thrown! Again and again must the gods be desecrated!
And now I lie supine before thee, in terror and abasement. O Purity! O Truth! What shall I say? My tongue cleaveth to my jaws, O thou Medusa that hast turned me to stone! Yet is that stone the stone of the philosophers. Yet is that tongue Hadit.
Aha! Aha!
Yea! Let me take the form of Hadit before thee, and sing:
A ka dua Tuf ur biu Bi a'a chefu Dudu ner af an nuteru.
Nuit! Nuit! Nuit! How art thou manifested in this place! This is a Mystery ineffable. And it is mine, and I can never reveal it either to God or to man. It is for thee and me !
Aha! Aha!
A ka dua Tuf ur biu Bi a'a chefu Dudu ner af an nuteru.
. . . My spirit is no more; my soul is no more. My life leaps out into annihilation!
A ka dua Tuf ur biu Bi a'a chefu Dudu ner af an nuteru.
It is the cry of my body! Save me! I have come too close. I have come too close to that which may not be endured. It must awake, the body; it must assert itself.
It must shut out the Æthyr, or else it is dead.
Every pulse aches, and beats furiously. Every nerve stings like a serpent. And my skin is icy cold.
Neither God nor man can penetrate the Mystery of the Æthyr.
(Here the Seer mutters unintelligibly.)
And even that which understandeth cannot hear its voice. For to the profane the voice of the Neophyte is called silence, and to the Neophyte the voice of the Zelator is called silence. And so ever is it.
Sight is fire, and is the first angle of the Tablet; spirit is hearing, and is the centre thereof; thou, therefore, who art all spirit and fire, and hast no duller elements in thy star; thou art come to sight at the end of thy will. And if thou wilt hear the voice of the Æthyr, do thou invoke it in the night, having no other light but the light of the half moon. Then mayest thou hear the voice, though it may be that thou understandeth it not. Yet shall it be a potent spell, whereby thou mayest lay bare the womb of thy understanding to the violence of CHAOS.
Now, therefore, for the last time, let the veil of the Æthyr be torn.
Aha! Aha! Aha! Aha! Aha! Aha! Aha! A ka dua Tuf ur biu Bi a'a chefu Dudu ner af an nuteru.[2]
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
This Æthyr must be left unfinished then until the half moon.
Hammam Salahine. December 18, 1909 3:10 - 4:25 p.m.
1—Egyptian, from the Stèle of Revealing. "unity uttermost showed! I adore the might of Thy breath, Supreme and terrible God, Who makest the gods and death To tremble before Thee:— I, I adore Thee!" 2—At this point the Seer sank back exhausted; the Scribe, fearing that He might be drowned, assisted Him to come out of the Pool.
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