The Winged Beetle

117 THE LADDER “ I will arise and go unto my Father ” MALKUTH DARK, dark, all dark ! I cower, I cringe. Only above me is a citron tinge As if some echo of red, gold, and blue Chimed on the night and let its shadow through. Yet I who am thus prisoned and exiled Am the right heir of glory, the crowned child. I match my might against my Fate’s, I gird myself to reach the ultimate shores, I arm myself the war to win :— Lift up your heads, O mighty gates ! Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors ! The King of Glory shall come in. TAU I pass from the citrine : deep indigo In this tall column. Snakes and vultures bend Their hooded hate on him that would ascend. O may the Four avail me ! Ageless woe, Fear, torture, throng the threshold. Lo ! The end Of matter ! The immensity of things