There is a light before thine eyes, o prophet, a light undesired, most desirable.
I am uplifted in thine heart; and the kisses of the stars rain hard upon thy body.
Thou art exhaust in the voluptuous fullness of the inspiration; the expiration is sweeter than death, more rapid and laughterful than a caress of Hell's own worm.
Oh! thou art overcome: we are upon thee; our delight is all over thee: hail! hail: prophet of Nu! prophet of Had! prophet of Ra-Hoor-Khu! Now rejoice! now come in our splendour & rapture! Come in our passionate peace, & write sweet words for the Kings!
I am the Master: thou art the Holy Chosen One.
Write, & find ecstasy in writing! Work, & be our bed in working! Thrill with the joy of life & death! Ah! thy death shall be lovely: whoso seeth it shall be glad. Thy death shall be the seal of the promise of our agelong love. Come! lift up thine heart & rejoice! We are one; we are none.
Hold! Hold! Bear up in thy rapture; fall not in swoon of the excellent kisses!
Harder! Hold up thyself! Lift thine head! breathe not so deep—die!