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from the Vision, and on the morrow, at the appointed hour, shall
it be given thee further, as thou goest upon thy way, meditating
this mystery. And thou shalt summon the Scribe, and that which
shall be written, shall be written.
Therefore I withdraw myself, as I am commanded.
THE DESERT BETWEEN BENSHRUR AND TOLGA.
December 12, 1909, 7-8.12 p.m.
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Now then art thou approached unto an august Arcanum;
verily thou art come unto the ancient Marvel, the winged light,
the Fountains of Fire, the Mystery of the Wedge. But it is not I
that can reveal it, for I have never been permitted to behold it,
who am but the watcher upon the threshold of the Æthyr. My
message is spoken, and my mission is accomplished. And I
withdraw myself, covering my face with my wings, before the
presence of the Angel of the Æthyr.
So the Angel departed with bowed head, folding his wings
across.
And there is a little child in a mist of blue light; he hath
golden hair, a mass of curls, and deep blue eyes. Yea, he is all
golden, with a living, vivid gold. And in each hand he hath a
snake; in the right hand a red, in the left a blue. And he hath red
sandals, but no other garment.
And he sayeth: Is not life a long initiation unto sorrow? And
is not Isis the Lady of Sorrow? And she is my mother. Nature is
her name, and she hath a twin sister Nephthys, whose name is
Perfection. And Isis must be known of all, but of how few is
Nephthys known! Because she is dark, therefore is she feared.
But thou who hast adored her without fear, who hast made
thy life an initiation into her Mystery, thou that hast neither
mother nor father, nor sister nor brother, nor wife nor child, who
hast made thyself lonely as the hermit crab that is in the waters
of the Great Sea, behold! when the sistrons are shaken, and the
trumpets blare forth the glory of Isis, at the end thereof there is
silence, and thou shalt commune with Nephthys.
And having known these, there are the wings of Maut the
Vulture. Thou mayest draw to an head the bow of thy magical
will; thou mayest loose the shaft and pierce her to the heart. I am
Eros. Take then the bow and the quiver from my shoulders and
slay me; for unless thou slay me, thou shalt not unveil the
Mystery of the Æthyr.
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Therefore I did as he commanded; in the quiver were two
arrows, one white, one black. I cannot force myself to fit an
arrow to the bow.
And there came a voice: It must needs be.
And I said: No man can do this thing.
And the voice answered, as it were an echo: Nemo hoc
facere potest.
Then came understanding to me, and I took forth the Arrows.
The white arrow had no barb, but the black arrow was barbed
like a forest of fish-hooks; it was bound round with brass, and it
had been dipped in deadly poison. Then I fitted the white arrow
to the string, and I shot it against the heart of Eros, and though I
shot with all my force, it fell harmlessly from his side. But at
that moment the black arrow was thrust through mine own heart.
I am filled with fearful agony.
And the child smiles, and says: Although thy shaft hath
pierced me not, although the envenomed barb hath struck thee
through, yet I am slain, and thou livest and triumphest, for I am
thou and thou art I.
With that he disappears, and the Æthyr splits with a roar as of
ten thousand thunders. And behold, The Arrow! The plumes of
Maat are its crown, set about the disk. It is the Ateph crown of
Thoth, and there is the shaft of burning light, and beneath there is
a silver wedge.
I shudder and tremble at the vision, for all about it are whorls
and torrents of tempestuous fire. The stars of heaven are caught
in the ashes of the flame. And they are all dark. That which was
a blazing sun is like a speck of ash. And in the midst the Arrow
burns!
I see that the crown of the Arrow is the Father of all Light,
and the shaft of the Arrow is the Father of all Life, and the barb
of the Arrow is the Father of all Love. For that silver wedge is
like a lotus flower, and the Eye within the Ateph Crown crieth: I
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watch. And the Shaft crieth: I work. And the Barb crieth: I wait.
And the Voice of the Æthyr echoeth: It beams. It burns. It
blooms.
And now there cometh a strange thought; this Arrow is
the source of all motion; it is infinite motion, yet it moveth not,
so that there is no motion. And therefore there is no matter.
This Arrow is the glance of the Eye of Shiva. But because it
moveth not, the universe is not destroyed. The universe is put
forth and swallowed up in the quivering of the plumes of Maat,
that are the plumes of the Arrow; but those plumes quiver not.
And a voice comes: That which is above is not like that
which is below.
And another voice answers it: That which is below is not like
that which is bove.
And a third voice answers these two: What is above and what
is below? For there is the division that divideth not, and the
multiplication that multiplieth not. And the One is the many.
Behold, this Mystery is beyond understanding, for the winged
globe is the crown, and the shaft is the wisdom, and the barb is
the understanding. And the Arrow is one, and thou art lost in the
Mystery, who art but as a babe that is carried in the womb of its
mother, that art not yet ready for the light.
And the vision overcometh me. My sense is stunned; my
sight is blasted; my hearing is dulled.
And a voice cometh: Thou didst seek the remedy of sorrow;
therefore all sorrow is thy portion. This is that which is written:
God hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all. For as thy blood
is mingled in the cup of BABALON, so is thine heart the
universal heart. Yet is it bound about with the Green Serpent,
the Serpent of Delight.
It is shown me that this heart is the heart that rejoiceth, and
the serpent is the serpent of Death for herein all the symbols are
interchangeable, for each one containeth in itself its own
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THE VISION AND THE VOICE
opposite. And this is the great Mystery of the Supernals that are
beyond the Abyss. For below the Abyss, contradiction is
division; but above the Abyss, contradiction is Unity. And there
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