THE NEW WINE
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bush—or
a flaming
chariot-or
a
still
small voice ,
and joining myself to God I become
one
spirit with
him .
As :
O night !
Fade , love ! Fade , light !
I pass beyond Life's law .
I melt as snow ; as ice 1 thaw ;
As mist I dissipate : I am borne , I draw
Through
chasms
on the mountains
: stormy gusts
Of ancient sorrows and forgotten lusts
Bear me along : they touch me not : I waste.
The memory of long lives interlaced
Fades in my tading . I disintegrate
Fall into black oblivion of Fate .
My being divides . I have forgot my name .
I am blown out as a thin subtle flame,
I am no more .
And
Nor shall the mind revoke at ease
These myriad cressets from the sun ;
Constrained
in sober destinies
Thought's river shall
its
ripples run
Into the one
,
the one
,
the one
,
the one
.?
2
2
Orpheus
,
vol
.
iii,
p
.
213
.
Gargoyles
,
vol
.
iii,
p
.
97.
I
may here
point out that not
only
in
their Sapphic
brilliance
,
but
also
in
their
mirrored
mysticism
,
so
many
of
Crowley's
poems
are
akin
to
the
esoteric teaching
of
the Sufi poets
of
Persia
,
such
as
Jelaladdin
and Jami
.
A
very
beautiful
parable
of
Jelaladdin
runs
as
follows
:
One knocked
at
the
Beloved's
Door
;
and
a
Voice
asked
from within
,
“
Who
is
there
?
”
and
he
answered
,
“
It
is
I.
"
Then the Voice said
,
“
This House will not hold Me and Thee
."
And
the Door was not
opened
.
Then went the Lover into the
Desert
,
and fasted
and prayed
in
Solitude
.
And after
a
year
he
returned
,
and knocked again
at
the Door
.
And again the voice
asked
,
“
Who
is
there
?
”
and
he
said
,
“
It
is
Thyself
,”
and the