Hymn to Lucifer
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savior hath life?
An impeccable machine, exact.
He paces an inane and pointless path.
To glut brute appetites, his sole content.
How tedious were He fit to comprehend,
More, this our noble element of fire in nature,
love in spirit, unkenned
life hath no spring, no axle, and no end.
His body a bloody-ruby radiant
with noble passion, sun-souled Lucifer
Swept through the dawn colossal, swift aslant
on Eden’s imbecile perimeter.
He blessed nonentity with every curse
and spiced with sorrow the dull soul of sense,
breathed life into the sterile universe,
with love and knowledge, drove out innocence
the key of joy is disobedience.
– Aleister Crowley