The Winged Beetle

THE LADDER 121 The quintessential Pan ? What shore Stretches beyond this secret door ? Hail ! O thou sevenfold star of green, Thou fourfold glory—all this teen Caught up in ecstasy—a boon To pass me singing through the moon ! Nay ! I knew not what glory shone Gold from the breathless bliss beyond : But this I know that I am gone To the heart of God’s great diamond ! I match, &c. KETHER I am passed through the abyss of flame ; Hear ye that I am that I am ! THE RETURN Behold ! I clothe mine awful light In yonder body born of night. Its mind be open to the higher ! Its heart be lucid-luminous ! The Temple of its own desire The Temple of the Rosy Cross !