Tuesday, 11 July 2017
Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.
- Romans 12: 21
I have walked through Hell. I've passed through its ruined dreamtimes and felt the radiant darkness, the desolation, the barren stone beneath my feet. It is a place devoid of all emotional warmth, all hope. But there are no children there. Only lost and callous ones who occasionally take the twisted forms of children, in mockery and lust. Hell is simply a place the spiritually fallen go to endure themselves, to face themselves. There are no children in Hell. This realm is darker than that place. There are so many children here. And the darkest wraiths of the abyss desire them most of all. They ache to defile innocence. I say to you now this place called Earth is darker than Hell. Even now the wraiths and demons shriek in the frequencies, pounding desperately on the other sides of mirrors, demanding to be let in.
Let no man deceive himself. The battle of good and evil is very real. For those who doubt this, I ask you to look within yourselves. We all know how to invoke the nameless one, the dark twin of creation. I believe that one can invoke anything from the well of frequencies, with varying degrees of success. Devil, Demiurge, Angel of the Abyss. I don't really care what name it is given. It is discussed or alluded to in all cultures, in a multiplicity of forms. It isn't really about duality. It's about stories, and storytellers. It's about the subjective nature of an objective experience. It's about knowing who and what you can become, depending on what you feed. Do we feed that spirit of defilement, desecration and abuse, or do we commune with the better angels of our nature? There are many ways to manifest a fiction, many ways to call forth certain stories from the well. I am but a humble scribe in this war of imagination. A simple messenger. And though others would claim that I am lost and damned because I do not believe exactly as they believe, I have sworn myself to a higher calling. I humble myself before what Man calls God. The radiant fire, divine. Mother and Father to all things. I live to serve this sentient spirit of Love.
And though I am scarred from my travels through realms hidden to most, my eye hath not darkened. I hear the voice of my maker. I know why I speak and seek as I do. For the liberation of my brethren, and myself. In this calling I claim not to speak for God, only to listen with as much diligence as my love for him can rouse. Through pain and confusion I was once lost as the fallen are lost. But I cried out, kindling the spark that dwells within. And Grace came unto me, lifting me up from the desolate places. I remembered the image and promise that I am, that we all are. So I write, I create. All flaws are my own, but I am earnest in my pursuits. To those who call God by a different name, I say to you now is not the flame that animates me the very same that gives you life? Our symbols, stories and tongues are varied, but our souls and spirits are forever connected. In this connection it is evident to me that we are one family, scattered upon various shores. It is magic and eternity that dwells in us. I know of this. My name is Listen, and Midnight, and I speak now with my Father.
Hear this, my children. The inbreath of spirit is imagination. The outbreath of spirit is the world, all worlds, eternally. We are slain and risen in each instant, made seamless in the continuity of God. And this meeting of imagination and world is the very image of God. Wheresoever God sinneth he sinneth against himself, in this fashion knowing and seeing all. God resides not only in the sky, or the earth, or the stars, but in the very heart of you. The slain and risen Christos; true love's kiss. When love did triumph over evil and rent the veil at the place of the skull. Never forsaken, child. For I dwelleth in you. No sin or virtue is hidden from me. I cry as you cry, weep as you weep. And so when you seek for something better, when you cry out sincerely in guilt and newborn desire to serve rather than harm, I am there. For the blood of your tears and lamentations is my blood. For I am in you. And I judge myself harshly since no ordinance or mystery is beyond me. I judge as a Creator must judge, from within. But I serve among you as must a man serve, diligently, with the promise and grace of I in you and you in I. This is your holy vessel, child of true love's kiss. This is your likeness fashioned in the image of me. The slain and ever risen spirit, of the heart, at the place of the skull. Know this, my children. None are forsaken by me, in me, or through me. I am not bound by divine law, for I am the author of spirit. I dwelleth in you, lest you turn away from me. But not I from you. Knowing all tongues, all customs and secrets, I have fashioned you in the image of promise, sustained by grace. It is sufficient for thee, beloved one. Nothing is hidden from an immortal soul. All will be revealed, when again I gather up my children and smite that which has reigned wickedness and inequity over them. For I am your Father in Heaven, unknown to all but one. He that dwelleth in you. Upon this cornerstone is built the very foundations of paradise.