The battle ever wages, beyond the dusk and dawn.
The warriors that I fight come on, and on, and on.
Their numbers are increasing, their ranks growing strong.
The battle's never ceasing; there's no more right and wrong.Fading, I am fading--
As a dream upon awakening;
Waning, swiftly waning--
As the moon upon its darkening.Still they come those soldiers grim,
Though I hack them limb from limb.
Though I spill their fetid blood on the battlefield of life
I am drowned in the flood--in my back the traitor's knife.Gasping, I am gasping--
For without air there's no breathing;
Frantically, I am fighting--
While consciousness is leaving.On they come, those devil's sons of a dying-god.
Though I cut them with my glaive, and beat them with my iron rod.
Ah--my arms are weakening; aching 'till I scream.
In my ears the death-bells ring; only deafness doth redeem.Blood-filled eyes astraining--
To see the troops remaining;
The darkness is so blinding--
I'm lost beyond all finding.It's true I live for fighting, a Warrior am I,
But I too must have rest and love, though by the sword I'm sure to die.
Will this battle never cease? Will this war not end?
Shall I never know sweet peace? Will my wounds not mend?Darkness overcoming--
As my blood is freely running;
Death who has been stalking--
Stands before me mocking.Now it seems I breathe my last...
Before my eyes I see the past...
Thought was long ago arrested making me an automaton.
Shamefully I've been divested of my Chalice and Baton.Crying, I am crying--
For I think now of surrendering;
Dying, swiftly dying--
For Hope is not engendering.It seems the end of all that I Am;
To die as nothing but a sacrificial Ram...
But wait--the clouds are breaking! The blood is clearing from my eyes!
The Sun calls down: "Quit thy forsaking! Strike down thy enemies 'till each one dies!"Burning, I am burning--
New fire in me flaming!
The battle now is turning--
God help those I am maiming!Bring on your countless hoard, you god of death and slavery!
Fighting, I am fighting--
You cannot kill this Lord with your theft and foolish knavery!
You thought you'd had me beaten, you bloody weakling fools,
But now it's Death you're greet'n--we're playing by my rules!
As the Sword of Horus striking!
Killing, deftly killing--
For Thelema--more than Willing!Anno LXXIV i xiv