September 29 (Jupiter) Liber VII, Cap. III, v. 38-44
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38. Again the inhuman voice!
39. I rear my Titan bulk into the teeth of the gale, and I smite and prevail, and swing me out over the sea.
40. There is a strange pale God, a god of pain and deadly wickedness.
41. My own soul bites into itself, like a scorpion ringed with fire.
42. That pallid God with face averted, that God of subtlety and laughter, that young Doric God, him will I serve.
43. For the end thereof is torment unspeakable.
44. Better the loneliness of the great grey sea! -
A point is reached here where great bulk, even victorious, gives way and sacrifices itself. Perhaps the way forward isn’t reached by this kind of greatness and maybe the bulk just weighs you down over time. Through darkness the angel appears as such in Its highest expressions. Through light the same.
Here what strikes me is serving the highest even when the form of its expression is such that may not appear as we expect. Life continually, by subtlety, and with its own sense of humor stands to display our reflected images with which we continue our work.