Dead But Dreaming

The Art of the Occult

THE BIRTH OF BABALON
(by John Whiteside Parsons, 1914-1952 e.v.)

What is the tumult among the stars
that have shone so still till now?
What are the furrows of pain and wrath
upon the immortal brow?

Why is the face of God turned grey
and his angels all grown white?
What is the terrible ruby star
that burns down the crimson night?

What is the beauty that flames so bright
athwart the awful dawn?
She has taken flesh, she is come to judge
the thrones ye rule upon.

Quail ye kings for an end is come
in the birth of BABALON.

*

I have walked three dreadful nights away
in halls beyond despair,
I have given marrow and tears and sweat
and blood to make her fair.

I have lain my love and smashed my heart
and filled her cup with blood,
That blood might flow from the loins of woe
to the cup of brotherhood.

The cities reel in the shout of steel
where the sword of war is drawn.
Sing ye saints for the day is come
in the birth of BABALON.

*

Now God has called for his judgement book
and seen his name therein
And the grace of God and the guilt of God
have spelt it out as sin

His bloody priests have clutched his robes
and stained his linen gown
And his victims swarm from his broken hell
to drag his kingdom down.

O popes and kings and the little gods
are sick and sad and wan
To see the crimson star that bursts
like blood upon the dawn

While trumpets sound and stars rejoice
at the birth of BABALON

*

BABALON is too beautiful
for sight of mortal eyes
She has hidden her loveliness away
in lonely midnight skies,

She has clothed her beauty in robes of sin
and pledged her heart to swine
And loving and giving all she has
brewed for saints immortal wine.

But now the darkness is riven through
and the robes of sin are gone,
And naked she stands as a terrible blade
and a flame and a splendid song

Naked in radiant mortal flesh
at the Birth of BABALON.

She is come new born as a mortal maid
forgetting her high estate,
She has opened her arms to pain and death
and dared the doom of fate,

And death and hell are at her back,
but her eyes are bright with life,
Her heart is high and her sword is strong
to meet the deadly strife,

Her voice is sure as the judgement trump
to crack the house of wrong,
Though walls are high and stone is hard
and the rule of hell was long

The gates shall fall and the irons break
in the Birth of BABALON

*

Her mouth is red and her breasts are fair
and her loins are full of fire,
And her lust is strong as a man is strong
in the heat of her desire,

And her whoredom is holy as virtue is foul
beneath the holy sky
And her kisses will wanton the world away
in passion that shall not die.

Ye shall laugh and love and follow her dance
When the wrath of God is gone
And dream no more of hell and hate
in the Birth of BABALON