Liber XXI

Khing Kang King

The Classic of Purity

first written down by me

Ko Yuen

in the Episode of the Dynasty of Wu
and now made into a Rime by me

Aleister Crowley

A∴A∴ Publication in Class B


O.S.V. 6°= 5 Imperator


Lao Kun the Master said: Tao is devoid of form — Yet Heaven and Earth are brought to birth, and nurtured by its norm.

Tao hath no Will to work; Yet by its way of heaven The Moon and Sun rejoice to run Among the starry seven.

Tao hath no name; its word Is growth, and sustenance To all; I aim to give it name: Tao (heaven prosper chance!)

Tao hath twin phase with Teh: The silent and the stressed. Of motion, those; of these, repose Sublimely manifest.

Heaven moves, pure silence he; Earth rests beneath the strain; Shuttle and loom, as word and womb, Their mystery sustain.

Pure motion maketh rest As silence maketh stress. If man were still, then heaven should thrill With earth to nothingness.

Self loveth silence, yea, But mind distracteth it. Mind loveth rest; but passion's pest Allures the trembling wit.

If man restrain desire, His mind will cease to roll, And mind's release allow pure peace Of silence to the soul.

The senses will not soil; The thought will not upstress; Nor poisons (greed, wrath, dullness) breed Their triform deadliness.

Men earn not ease of Tao For their desire's disease; Because their mind is not refined Of thought by killing these.

If one should slay desires, His mind and body seem No longer his, but phantasies Danced in a wanton's dream.

Slay mind, slay body, slay The external: matter goes. Then space remains; renew thy pains! Up! Front the final foes!



Lao Kun the master said: The adept in skill of soul Hath never an aim: the bungler's shame Is that he gropes a goal.

Who most possess the Teh Conceal their magick power; Who least possess exert their strength Seven times in every hour.

These, who cling fast to powers, Who guard them, and display Their magick art — they are not part Of Tao nor yet of Teh.

Men win not truth of Tao Because their minds are wried. The mind uncurbed, the self's perturbed, And loses tune of tide.

Lost, the external lures; They turn to seek it: then All things perplex, confuse, and vex Those miserable men.

Disordered thoughts arise; Body and mind grow sick. Disgrace and fear grow year by year To their climacteric.

Wild, they are tossed about Through life and death; they quiver, Sunk in sea-stress of bitterness, And lose the Tao for ever.

The true, the abiding Tao! Who understandeth hath; Who hath the Tao is here and now In silence of the path.

Slay space; then naught abides. Hold not thy holy hand! When naught gives back before the attack, Serene thy silence stand!

All's rest, devoid of mark; How should desires fix tooth? When they are past, thou surely hast The silence of the truth.

Flawless that truth and fixed, Yet apt to each appeal Nature and sense to influence — The magnet to the steel!

Oh! this true touch with all Elastic and exact That yet above their tides — The silence free from act!

He that hath this shall come Little by little, a breath, So floweth he now, to truth of Tao, Wherein he vanisheth.

Men style him lord of Tao, Yet he hath none to lord. Hid motive he of all that be: Enough for his reward!

He that can comprehend This doctrine may transmit This sacred Tao to men that vow Themselves to fathom it.

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