S&M Poetry 2 – One Star in Sight by Aleister Crowley

Greetings from the Sorcerer!

Welcome back to the bar of Temperance dear listeners. Tonight the Magician and I read delve into some more poetry for you.  As an added bonus, we have a special guest the dearest Sorceress.  Please enjoy the serious mixed with the silly, not on the drink list, but always available,  as we read One Star in Sight.  Feel free to send us an e-mail and suggestions for some more poetry.  Thank you as always dear listeners, until we meet again.

Greetings from the Magician!
More poetic fun from the Sorcerer and myself!  This time we tackle a slightly longer poem and bring on a lovely guest as well.  None other than the mystical magical Sorcereress herself!  Please enjoy the soothing sounds of poetry and do your best to ignore those two other guys who came on after us.  A bunch of jerks and wannabe know-it-alls if you ask me!  Anyway, the Moon card is underway and should be completed soon.  I have been tasked with a great burden of almost single-handedly saving an entire kingdom and my thirst as a completionist has found me away from the computer for too long.  Alas, there will be new art soon and with it the new cast!  We are entering the home stretch of the Major arcana!  Woo hoo!

One Star in Sight, by Aleister Crowley

Thy feet in mire, thine head in murk,
O man, how piteous thy plight,
The doubts that daunt, the ills that irk,
Thou hast nor wit nor will to fight—
How hope in heart, or worth in work?
No star in sight!

Thy gods proved puppets of the priest.
“Truth? All’s relation!” science sighed.
In bondage with thy brother beast,
Love tortured thee, as Love’s hope died
And Lover’s faith rotted. Life no least
Dim star descried.

Thy cringing carrion cowered and crawled
To find itself a chance-cast clod
Whose Pain was purposeless; appalled
That aimless accident thus trod
Its agony, that void skies sprawled
On the vain sod!

All souls eternally exist,
Each individual, ultimate,
Perfect—each makes itself a mist
Of mind and flesh to celebrate
With some twin mask their tender tryst
Insatiate.

Some drunkards, doting on the dream,
Despair that it should die, mistake
Themselves for their own shadow-scheme.
One star can summon them to wake
To self; star-souls serene that gleam
On life’s calm lake.

That shall end never that began.
All things endure because they are.
Do what thou wilt, for every man
And every woman is a star.
Pan is not dead; he liveth, Pan!
Break down the bar!

To man I come, the number of
A man my number, Lion of Light;
I am The Beast whose Law is Love.
Love under will, his royal right—
Behold within, and not above,
One star in sight!