Nor thou, Habib, nor I are glad, <br />when rosy limbs and sweat entwine; <br />But rapture drowns the sense and self, <br />the wine the drawer of the wine, <br /> <br />And Him that planted first the grape- <br />o podex, in thy vault there dwells <br />A charm to make the member mad, <br />And shake the marrow of the spine. <br /> <br />O member, in thy stubborn strenght <br />a power avails on podex-sense <br />To boil the blood in breast and brain; <br />shudder the nreves incarnadine! <br /> <br />From me thou drawest pearly drink - <br />and in its pourings both are drunk. <br />The Iman drives forth the drunken man <br />from out the marble prayer-shrine. <br /> <br />Blue Mushtari strove with red Mirrikh <br />which should be master of the night- <br />But where is Mushtari, where Mirrikh <br />when in the sky the sun doth shine? <br /> <br />Now El Qahar to Hazif gives <br />the worship unto poets due : - <br />But songs are nought and Music all; <br />what poet music may define? <br /> <br />Allah's the atheist! he owns <br />no Allah. Sneer, thou dullard churl! <br />The Sufi worships not, but drinks, <br />being himself the all-divine. <br /> <br />Come, my Habib, the roses blush, <br />the waters gleam, the bulbul sings - <br />To pierce thy podex El Quahar's <br />urgent and and imminent design!<br /><br />Aleister Crowley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-atheist/
