I adored as Crowley intended
the sun
and saw signs mystic and
sometimes clearly audible..

Numbers hatched from their
unseen cocoons and into
the conscious void of forms that is
physical reality.

To court the psychopomp across
that psychic river into
a labyrinth of fractal uncertainties 
till you burned like
the candles around you,
breathed as a germ in
a spaceborne airlock.

Chaotic magick taught me to be alive
as a dead man
on a dead world
and transform a series
of apparently pointless
Hells into
Love independent
of life.