Regret

I have stood upon the battlements

Of ebon stone, and jet

Black light has bathed my body

With the force it can beget.

The Brothers of the Shadow

In their sullen scapulars

Have ministered unto my wants

And healed my battle scars.

I have stood in their cathedrals

And the hymns of hate I’ve sung,

I have heard the Mass of Mendes

Chanted by a slitted tongue.

I have taught the works of sorcery

To students of the fane,

By necromancy I have raised

The elemental rain.

I have viewed the land of utter night

And worn the monkish gown

Of those beyond life’s misty pale,

Have you ever thought . . .

How far is down?

— Grady Louis McMurtry
(undated)

Note: Originally published in Thelema Lodge Calendar, November 1995.