The Rose and the Cross

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Out of the seething cauldron of my woes,

Where sweets and salt and bitterness I flung;

Where charmed music gathered from my tongue,

And where I chained strange archipelagoes

Of fallen stars; where fiery passion flows

A curious bitumen; where among

The glowing medley moved the tune unsung

Of perfect love: thence grew the Mystic Rose.

Its myriad petals of divided light;

Its leaves of the most radiant emerald;

Its heart of fire like rubies. At the sight

I lifted up my heart to God and called:

How shall I pluck this dream of my desire?

And lo! there shaped itself the Cross of Fire!

Aleister Crowley

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