Little Fly,
Thy summer’s play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought is life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death;
Then am I
A happy fly,
If I live,
Or if I die.
Books in PDF format to read:
Howard Phillips Lovecraft - The TempleHoward Phillips Lovecraft - The Festival
Keywords: witchcraft explained spiritualism making magick together moon complete witchcraft john monas hieroglyphica animal magnetism wicca introductory course picatrix wise magic
