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To bring up Yog-Sothoth
you shall wait upon the sun
in the fifth house,
with Saturn in trine;
then shall you draw
the pentagram of fire,
saying the ninth verse thrice,
repeating which
each Roodemas
and Hallow’s Eve
causes the Thing to breed
in the Outside Spaces beyond the gate,
of which Yog-Sothoth is the Guardian.
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Lord of All Things,
encircled by his flopping horde
of mindless and amorphous dancers,
and lulled by the thin monotonous piping
of a daemoniac flute
held in nameless paws.
Lights still out- must be five minutes now.
Everything depends on lightning.
Yaddith grant it will keep up!...
Some influence seems beating through it...
Rain and thunder and wind...
The thing is taking hold of my mind...
Trouble with memory. I see things I never knew before.
Other worlds and other galaxies... Dark...
The lightning seems dark and the darkness seems light...
It cannot be the real hill and church that I see in the pitch-darkness.
What am I afraid of? Is it not an avatar of Nyarlathotep,
who in antique and shadowy Khem even took the form of man?
I remember Yuggoth, and more distant Shaggai,
and the ultimate void of the black planets...
The long, winging flight through the void...
cannot cross the universe of light...
send it through the horrible abysses of radiance...
Azathoth have mercy!- the lightning no longer flashes- horrible-
I can see everything with a monstrous sense that is not sight-
light is dark and dark is light...
Sense of distance gone -far is near and near is far.
No light - no glass -
the thing is stirring and fumbling in the tower.
I see it - coming here - hell-wind -
titan blue - black wing - Yog Sothoth save me
the three-lobed burning eye...
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The Affair that shambles about in the night,
the evil that defies the Elder Sign,
the Herd that stand watch at the secret portal
each tomb is known to have
and that thrive on that
which grows out of the tenants thereof:
all these Blacknesses are lesser
than He Who guards the Gateway:
He Who will guide the rash one
beyond all the worlds into the Abyss
of unnamable devourers.
For He is ’Umr At-Tawil,
the Most Ancient One.
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The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are,
and the Old Ones shall be.
Not in the spaces known to us,
but between them,
They walk calm and primal,
of no dimensions, and to us unseen.
Yog-Sothoth knows the gate,
for Yog-Sothoth is the gate.
Yog-Sothoth is the key
and the guardian of the gate.
Past, present, future—
what has been, what is, what will be,
all are one in Yog-Sothoth.
He knows where the Old Ones
broke through of old,
and where They shall break through
in time to come
until the Cycle is complete.
The Old Ones were,
the Old Ones are,
and the Old Ones shall be.
Yog-Sothoth knows the gate,
He's the gate.
He's the key
and the Guardian of the gate.
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