Nightbringer Old Night
Thou hermit of Old Night who wadest into the turbulence
of the waters un-drowned, who verily enters into death‟s
magisterium without fear, thou whose toil is the
ineffable work of the abyss that draws forth the all
slaying solve, thou art amongst the deathless race of the
kingless, beyond the provenance of god. In the light of
Lucifer‟s dawn, thy shadow casts long and dim before
thee. In the pitch of Noctifer‟s saturnine night thy
shadow is the very face of the abyss. Oh vajra-hearted
lord enthroned within the silence between the birth and
death of every thought, in thronismos within the shadowed
temple at the crux of the cruciform! Yet shall the very
abyss of thought be wholly illuminated by the gleam from
thy morningstar lantern, the fruit plucked from the
deepest root. To guide the pandemonion of self unto the
scarlet hill of martyrdom, upon the path that even devas
are cursed to tread. Thou hast withdrawn the husks of the
most bitter seed and the garments from the gods
themselves, to reach the hypostasis that is a black pearl
dazzling the 7 aeons. Betwixt the hammer and anvil of
becoming is thy presence eternal that is in between-ness
known as N.O.X. Self-murderer and Self-begetter, with
eyes fixed unto the cup of Djemscheed, thou breakest the
chains forged by stellar gravity. Oh, the motionless
movement of Death! With both the soberness of the
Amethyst and the mad Satyr's ecstatic thirst, leap ye
forth into the Mandala's center – The Point where sun and
moon collide, crushed to lifeless splinters before
ancient Night's hollow eye.
