⣤⠒⠉⣉⡶⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠙⣖⢄⠈⠉⠢⣙⣆⠀⠀⣠⣔⠶⠒⠒⠉⠍⠛⠋⠒⠒⠒⠤⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠈⠣⡈⠐⠾⠁⢈⣭⠓⠒⠂⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠠⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠢⣄⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠈⢱⢿⣷⡿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⡀⢱⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠒⠦⣀⠈⢧
⠀⠀⠀⠠⠁⡹⠒⠱⡀⠪⣓⠒⠒⠀⠀⣶⠟⠁⢱⠴⠠⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡇⣸
⠀⣴⣲⠂⡰⠁⠀⠀⠈⠣⡈⢫⠉⠒⠊⠁⠀⠀⠈⠾⡿⡞⡆⣀⣀⣤⡒⠩⠔⠁
⠀⠻⠃⢰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⡀⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣒⠤⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⢰⠟⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

The power of Abraxas is twofold; but ye see it not, because for your eyes the warring opposites of this power are extinguished.

What the god-sun speaketh is life.

What the devil speaketh is death.

But Abraxas speaketh that hallowed and accursed word which is life and death at the same time.

Abraxas begetteth truth and lying, good and evil, light and darkness, in the same word and in the same act. Wherefore is Abraxas terrible.

It is splendid as the lion in the instant he striketh down his victim. It is beautiful as a day of spring. It is the great Pan himself and also the small one. It is Priapos.

It is the monster of the under-world, a thousand-armed polyp, coiled knot of winged serpents, frenzy.

It is the hermaphrodite of the earliest beginning.

It is the lord of the toads and frogs, which live in the water and go up on the land, whose chorus ascendeth at noon and at midnight.

It is abundance that seeketh union with emptiness.

It is holy begetting.

It is love and love’s murder.

It is the saint and his betrayer.

It is the brightest light of day and the darkest night of madness.

To look upon it, is blindness.

To know it, is sickness.

To worship it, is death.

To fear it, is wisdom.

To resist it not, is redemption.

Carl Jung, Sermon III, Seven Sermons to the Dead