It is one light which beams out of a thousand stars. It is one soul which animates all men.

As a star, uncompanioned, moves in heaven
Unastonished by the immensities of space,
Travelling infinity by its own light,
The great are strongest when they stand alone.
A God-given might of being is their force,
A ray from self‘s solitude of light the guide;
The soul that can live alone with itself meets God;
Its lonely universe is their rendezvous.

Our god's name is Abraxas and he is God and Satan and he contains both the luminous and the dark world.

He is one of those who has had the wilderness for a pillow, and called a star his brother. Alone. But loneliness can be a communion.

Always and everywhere one vision,
One customary, single mission,
One customary, single grief.
Not cooling distance’s relief...

One existence, one music, one organism, one life, one God: star-fire and rock-strength, the sea's cold flow
And man's dark soul.

To be one with all – that is the life of the divinity, that is the heaven of man.

Content, our life advancing
To a life that shall abide,
Each flame its worth enhancing,
The soul is glorified.
The starry host shall sink then
To bright and living wine,
The golden draught we drink then,
And stars ourselves shall shine.

Love released, lives woundless,
No separation more;
While life swells free and boundless
As a sea without a shore.
One night of glad elation,
One joy that cannot die,
And the sun of all creation
Is the face of the Most High.

Throughout the heavens and earth, I alone am the honored one

The reduction of the universe to the compass of a single being, and the extension of a single being until it reaches God - that is love.
Love is the salute of the angels to the stars.
How sad is the heart when rendered sad by love!
How great is the void created by the absence of the being who alone fills the world.

Conditioned to ecstasy, the poet is like a gorgeous unknown bird mired in the ashes of thought. If he succeeds in freeing himself, it is to make a sacrificial flight to the sun. His dreams of a regenerate world are but the reverberations of his own fevered pulse beats. He imagines the world will follow him, but in the blue he finds himself alone. Alone but surrounded by his creations; sustained, therefore, to meet the supreme sacrifice. The impossible has been achieved; the duologue of author with Author is consummated. And now forever through the ages the song expands, warming all hearts, penetrating all minds. At the periphery the world is dying away; at the center it glows like a live coal. In the great solar heart of the universe the golden birds are gathered in unison. There it is forever dawn, forever peace, harmony and communion. Man does not look to the sun in vain; he demands light and warmth not for the corpse which he will one day discard but for his inner being. His greatest desire is to burn with ecstasy, to commerge his little flame with the central fire of the universe. If he accords the angels wings so that they may come to him with messages of peace, harmony and radiance from worlds beyond, it is only to nourish his own dreams of flight, to sustain his own belief that he will one day reach beyond himself, and on wings of gold. One creation matches another; in essence they are all alike. The brotherhood of man consists not in thinking alike, nor in acting alike, but in aspiring to praise creation. The song of creation springs from the ruins of earthly endeavor. The outer man dies away in order to reveal the golden bird which is winging its way toward divinity.

Being at one is godlike and good, but human, too human, the mania
Which insists that there is only the One, one country, one truth and one way.

There is a single light of science, and to brighten it anywhere is to brighten it everywhere.

I am one with the universe. Who can lift that