“Nights were spent in adoration of Thoth.”

“Magicians through the ages have used the tried and true method of beseeching a higher power for favor. Since I sought a position as a scholar and writer, I turned to one of my favorite deities, the ibis-headed Egyptian god of knowledge, writing, and magick.”

“In my temple, from sundown to sunup, I chanted the invocations, made sacrifices of great clouds of incense, wrote scrolls worth of prayers, collected and kept sacred beetles, and subjugated myself before his image.”

“’I am Frater Threskiomis, and you shall do my will.‘”

“(S)he was the better angel of my nature.”

“’Strange,’ she said, cocking her head to one side. ‘That I should know your True Will and you do not.’“

“’To love me is better than all things. If under the night-stars in the desert, burn incense before me, invoking me with a pure heart, and the serpent flame therein, and you will come to lie in my bosom.’”

That sweet and powerful voice, how could they not put her on high? I wanted to run to her myself.

‘For one kiss, you will sacrifice all. Those who release to me but one particle of dust will in turn lose all their treasure. Gather goods and spices; wear rich jewels; or carry only your love for me, and you will exceed the nations of the earth in splendor and pride, and so you will know joy.’

These old hoary rituals, written before the advent of modern propaganda, were often more amusing than inspiring. But this one was spot on, or at least she made it so. I admit it moved me.

‘I charge you earnestly to come before me, if it be in a single robe, or covered in your treasures. I love you! I yearn to you! Pale or dark, veiled or wanton, I who am all pleasure and purple, and drunkenness, desire you. Put on the wings, and arouse the coiled splendor within you: come unto me!’

She was changing the words. Most were subtle changes, taking out the “thous” and “ye shalls,” that grate on modern ears. There were changes in substance as well, a more egalitarian tone to it. I glanced at the audience, none seemed to take offense. Ezra’s eyes adored her.

‘Sing the rapturous love-song unto me! Burn to me perfumes! Wear to me jewels! Drink to me, for I love you! I love you. I am the blue-lidded daughter of sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky.’”

Selections from My Babylon

Art by Rodion Tikhomirov

Ave Babalon