A Thelemic Diatribe on Magick

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Do what thou whilt shall be the whole of the Law.

I expect this entry to be nigh impenetrable to the uninitiated.

Show thy star splendour o Nuit, bid me within thine house to dwell. –from Liber Al vel Legis III:38

This sphere on which we reside is submerged utterly within the body of Nuit who is not and who art continuous. The superposition is null and yet is. The ever receptive cup, for is she a moon, waiting in lust with the rapturous love song “To me! To me!” The joy of disillusion is in the unity; the annihilation of the schism; ever divided for love’s sake. Love and death are both names of birth. Seeking ever to locate his receptacle the will finds pliable the wave function. For there beith no division between any one thing and another thing; the duality excretes substance when joined and is killed instantly. The notice is taken and in so doing results in the demonstration of the cosmos yet hints too of its destruction; for to contact insofar as merely the slightest glance is to change. There are no spectators; all are participants. The nativity of will on the ever open arms of Nuit in her starry form is ever ready to manifest and destroy; to create and crush a universe where not remains. Therefore and only therefore chaos is king; all the stars emit light uncontrollably; radiation as pending interactions out into the vast zero searching for an eye or a shadow. In the intercourse is simultaneously the initiation of and obliteration of truth in one. And all this is the formula for the work of magick and of all things.

Love is the law, love under will.