John St. John

3.15. 3.30. 345. 28 THE EQUINOX Yet now—ah now 1—1 am but a dead man. Within me and without still stirs that life of sense that is not life, but is as the worms that {east upon my corpse. . . . Adonail Adonai! my Lord Adonai! indeed, Thou hast forsaken me. Nay! thou liest, O weak soul! Abide in the meditation; unite all thy symbols into the form of a Lion, and be lord of thy jungle, travelling through the servile Universe even as Man the Lion very lordly, the Sun in His strength that travelleth over the heaven of Nu in His bark in the mid-career of Day. For all these thoughts are vain; there is but One thought, though that thought be not yet born—He only is God, and there is none other God than Hel Walking home with mantra; suddenly a spasm of weeping took me as I cried through the manna—" My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”—and I have to stop and put it down I A good thing; for it calms me. At the Dome, master of myself. The Mantra goes just 30 times a minute, 1800 times an hour, 43,200 times a day. To say it a million times would take longer than Mrs. Glyn’s heroine did to conceive. Yet I will get the result if I have to say it a hundred and eleven million times. But oh! fertilise my Akasic egg to- day] This remark, one should notice, is truly characteristic of the man John St. John. I see how funny it is; but I’m quite serious withal. Ye dull dogs!