The feeling of tension and unease continued for four days. Then on January 18 at sunset, whilst the Scribe and I were on the Mojave Desert, the feeling of tension suddenly stopped. I turned to him and said 'it is done', in absolute certainty that the Operation was accomplished. I returned home, and found a young woman answering the requirements waiting for me. She is describable as an air of fire type with bronze red hair, fiery and subtle, determined and obstinate, sincere and perverse, with extraordinary personality, talent and intelligence.It seems that Parsons had met Marjorie Cameron some time prior, and that she had turned up to visit him at the time of culmination of his Operation. Soon after, they married. The relationship was never a calm one, however, and after a short time they separated. During this period of separation they remained in correspondence, and Parsons penned her a series of letters in which he took it upon himself to act as her magical instructor. This is an extremely interesting and at times beautiful series, and will shortly be published.
My dear, do not think that you are alone. The legions are with you that tried and hoped, those now trying and hoping - the unborn to come, dreaming of a world to be - all, all are with you. The gods themselves bend and whisper at your doorway, and your windows are portentous with the possible hour. I have heard Aldebaran speak of you to Rigel, and the Pleiades whispering your name that is to be.
All that I have and all that I am flared up in the birth fires that time, and left me just three tasks: to guide in infancy, to counsel in adolescence, to renounce in maturity to go outwards whence I came.
If I was the one you could love, yet it was needful for you to learn contempt and hatred, and to equilibrate these again with Love. You have done it, and passed that fire. You have needed to know loneliness and terror and despair. You burn there, and it is passing. And now you come to the last unspeakable barrier, the ultimate thule, that you may labour long and painfully to kindle a small spark that will consume all you have - that will burn down the heavens as a torch, until even the black stars burn with furious joy.
If you only knew the ache to dissolve, to pass away, to go, to be one; to drink utterly of the cup men call death or madness; to be away, at rest, at peace. But I will endure. I will do what must be done, to the last moment of putrefying flesh, to the last pulsation of a dying brain. Not for myself, not for you, but for the vision that I saw once - that is forever.
One day my hands will fall away, and you will go alone into regions I cannot follow - take the sky in wings I have only known in dream.
God knows, it is not my body that now speaks to you; that is a tedious thing of days, of dim awareness in the half-shadow. It is my spirit that spoke to you in the beginning, that speaks to you again now, that will always be with you, until we meet and fuse in the darkness of which all light is a shadow.
STARFIRE II,1, 1992 |
London WC1N 3XX