Come, Man, let us go;
We have Intruded, You and I,
Who were never meant to be
Upon this toil worn planet.
Alone we stand, and are alone
Though multitudes may mill about our feet
And know us not; what had you thought?
That they would welcome Us with open arms?
Be not the Fool;
From that which is Outside we came to be
And this is our reward,
That we are shunned as is the mottled plague,
We and our company.
For is it not as I did oft foretell?
These creatures are as scum upon the Urth
That live and breathe and populate and die,
And are as blind as kobalds in the Sun,
That transcendental light of ether born.
We speak, and are not heard
We paint, and no man sees
We sing, and find our song not known
We mold, and they know not the form;
We are Outsiders,
So let it be and grieve not at their loss.
Come, for there is other life we need attend;
Through galaxies remote the life tide roars
And worlds unknown have spawned their hellish broods.
Who knows; perhaps on one of these we’ll find
A sentient crystal, or some horn’d Thing
Or eyeless monster of the sub-terrane,
Whose weird and alien consciousness has found
Perception as a sense.
There we may rest
And hold communion with the Silent Ones
To know again the Beauty that was Eld
Before the Cataclysm and the Cold
Had sharded Kolabon athwart the gulf.
So let us go
And leave them in the fetor of their slime
Until eternal sameness rots their souls
And they have found the surcease of the dead —
Whenas they walk beyond the walls of sleep —
Is but a prelude of the greater storm
That crouches just beyond the barrier reef,
Rumbling in its nimbostratic murk;
Come, Man, let us go; we have Intruded . . .
— Grady L. McMurtry
Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, September 1995.