Beyond Diametrics by Theo Hiraeth (Guest Essay)

Extremism, of act and thought – contextually defined as harshness, is something that has come to singularly define the Dark Tradition, somewhat dishonestly. We would be remiss if we were to outright state that the Tradition is not harsh, because it is – demonstrably so for those associates who have Aeonic perspective and act in accord with it – but such a masculous expression does not define our exeatic mystic tradition. The Extremism was an iteration, a stage, in an arduous and treacherous path to stand before the Swan that now swims along our third river.

When the Abyss is crossed it is only done so because the muliebral has been given equivocal representation within. Man cannot make it over the line, nor can woman; they must cross the threshold together, or be devoured by Νάρκισσος.

This kollective call thus goes out to all who have the Red Light currently in their window: embrace dianetics, and bloody-well do it properly! Allow your opposites to coalesce by letting the right ones into your shadow to discover the Gaia aspect of your φύσις.

You may think that because of your role and the moves you have played thus far, that we are beyond the means to exculpate.

You may ask the question: “what if they do not understand and react in a hostile manner?” But you know us better than that, and you know the answer to that kollective kwestion – our Aeonic struggle is legion.

Remember, lightning can strike twice, and live on as fulgurite for Aeons should the conditions be perfect and proper care be taken to preserve.

The candle remains alight, -0-. Return to where you belong.

– Theo Hiraeth
42nd Summer

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Becoming Human

Identity, it is what we spend most of the first part of our lives discovering. In certain esoteric schools, we are taught that it is a facade built to interface with the rest of the world. We can choose from a vast library of predefined components, then mix & match them, until we have arrived at the unique “me”. Our perfect little snowflake, the individual personality. Welcome to the “Build-a-Bear” of our human psyche. A literal xerox existence.

We see the same traits manifest throughout all of history. Each occurrence is a slightly less authentic copy of the earlier iterations. Defining ourselves by answering simple multiple choice questions like, “am I a cat person or a dog person?”. We lose ourselves in the madness of mimicry. The very skill that facilitates some of the necessary components of higher learning can act as a trapdoor. Disconnecting from the potential for discovering some type of genuine authenticity. At the same time, losing the sense of completion in our being.

How then do we become whole again? Can we discover the more natural version of “self”? Will we persevere in striking the delicate balance between the primal beastly animal and our divinity of emergent intellectuality? More concisely, can we evolve?

I look to the more traditional times, before the distortion and corruption seeped in, poisoning our collective prana. As a people, we faced the unknown darkness, as it threatened all around us. Emerging from deep within us. These were the days of tempering and trial. The ancient forge of the gods.

There is a sentiment appearing as a catastrophic phenomena. This phenomenon is rampant and spreading like rot does. There is a difficulty in bringing to light the full impact and implications of such atrophy. Atrophy taking a prohibitory form, divorcing the “I’s” within us. Forcing a denial of self, whether be it through law, manufactured morality, or social acceptance. All forms of repression.

In reality, we are biologically an ecosphere. Striking systematic balances on a myriad of delicate vectors. The simplest example of this that I can think of, is the gradual measure of Glycaemia. Where the absence/abundance of glucoses can have substantial consequences. If left unadulterated, one would either adapt or succumb to it. This type of occurrence is multi-tiered, and often simultaneously acting. That is the natural worldly order.

It is in understanding this, that I can experience a kind of empathy. An understanding that nothing is forever, nor has equal chances of survival. It is the nature of this world that we are pitted against the whole. Not just on the external, but most profoundly within ourselves. Most strikingly, we become aware that as time sifts through the hourglass, the distortion magnifies.

Somewhere in our quest towards divinity, we lost touch with our authenticity. What must be undergone to regain this, will require the loss of conceptual superiority. You cannot become the overman when you are barely a man to begin with. Reasoning then distinctly places us with the task of becoming human.

Human, not just in the rediscovery of the lost beast within, but in our socializations. While the rest of the Western civilization is debating on what gender they identify as, we find ourselves questioning what is so corrupt to have brought us to this point.

-TC Downey

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The Forge of Doubt

The current trend in Western culture is one that raises up individuality and uniqueness. It seems like everyone is chasing attractiveness and status. There are millions and millions of would-be social influencers. As stand alone statements or even when considering them together as a whole concept, these are things that should be applauded and encouraged. Yet, I can’t help but make note of the lack of consistency and the obvious facades.

A close friend of mine, regularly points to this phenomenon and scowls at it. He’s right to do so. The only flaw that I can find in his analysis, isn’t really an argument against his disgust. You see, I agree with him that the internet is where people go to pretend to be anyone they want. The flaw is that he has limited the scope of his judgement too narrowly. Turns out people are fraudulent by-in-large.

This is not to say, that there aren’t genuine people. I think some genuine people can at times, find themselves being disingenuous. This isn’t really any shocking new observation. However, this is a form of corruption. A corruption that seems to seep deeper and deeper into the collective consciousness. It is not anything new or novel that this “fakeness” is prevalent in the masses. We’ve simply added a few new layers on top of it.

When I consider this in contrast, I’m not surprised to find this rampantly existing, even in self-professed satanists. The internet removes a layer of accountability. Accountability is an idea that has long been eroding and rotting. Anton LaVey was writing about it in the 60’s. Accountability is often framed to be “an owning of your wrong doing”, but that doesn’t really seem to encompass its proper apprehension. What is really being put forth is, an honesty to self. A personal sincerity, void of delusions without intention.

When I was young, I often pondered the stark consistency of LaVey’s philosophy and his character. Old Howie’s detractors often point to all of LaVey’s lavish deceptions. From plagiarism to the embellished and sometimes completely fictitious stories of his past. Certainly there’s no accountability, right? I have to disagree. I find it completely consistent.

A man with a fake name. Telling embellished or possibly false stories. Pushing a meant-to-be sensational “religion” of the secular and rebellious. Charging a membership fee for a “church” against all churches. All while grifting the grifters. Watching those old videos of ritual and ceremony and even the many television interviews, there can be seen a twinkle in the corner of his eye. After all, the devil is a gentlemen, in the words of Shakespeare.

You can see it, simply by observing. There’s a consistency in him. A playful deviance, if you will. A harmony between word and deed. Should he be a liar, then let his lies be bold and outlandish. We then find an inner-resonance of self honesty to balance against it. With the mind of Lucifer, a carefully crafted deception was made to inspire doubt.

LaVey was a proponent of doubt as being paramount to truth. Doubt, the emancipator of minds, bearing the sword of unbridled wisdom. If this is a war for the eternal souls of men, then doubt is the great equalizer. A great many will ask themselves, “Is this a hill worth dying on”.

We are left in contemplation. Are we pretending or is this truly who we are. Is there a consistency between our words and deeds? We realize that, no matter how fortified the castle is; if it’s built on a mountain of sand, it takes but a wave to wash it from the shore.

Live Deliberately!

-Dread Beast Xeno

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The Chymical Wedding of David Myatt

The Inner ONA basically consists of individuals, known to each other personally, and from traditional nexions, of the Grade of Internal Adept and above, who possess the faculty of dark-empathy (aka esoteric empathy aka sinister empathy) and who possess certain other personal qualities. These individuals have therefore all had some personal guidance, over a period of many years, from one of our kind familiar with the Rounwytha tradition, and thus the inner ONA is akin to an extended family who maintain and who continue, on a personal basis, the esoteric Rounwytha (Camlad) tradition. This tradition was, according to aural accounts, that of the primal (but not necessarily then always dark) tradition maintained by rural sorceresses who lived in a certain area of England: that is, Shropshire and the Welsh Marches.

“Inner ONA,” Marcheyre Rhinings

For more information about the Inner-ONA, aka AoB, or, Assassins of Baphomet:

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Turnskin by Ariadne and Kristos 513

‘Pharaoh is the Bull of the Sky,
who shatters at will,
who lives on the being of every god,
who eats their entrails,
even of those who come with their bodies
full of magic from the Island of Flame’

The Cannibal Hymns of Unas, Utterance 273

Predation upon other organisms for sustenance is not at all uncommon, a harmonious act of violence which facilitates evolution by weeding out those who are unfit to survive, while also ensuring the continued existence and reproduction of those specimens who, by practical demonstration of their ability, have earned the right to survive. The prey organism is typically of a different species, however, this is not always the case, and there are many naturally-occurring instances of cannibalism, such as with the genus of jumping spider known as Portia, which preys on both web-building spiders and its own males after copulation. Portia, despite its diminutive size, shows complex social behaviours and a sort of intelligence one might expect of much larger predators, using particularly devious tactics to lure its prey – other spiders typically several times its own size – into vulnerable positions. Preying on one’s own kind is far from exclusive to the delightfully sinister Portia, and the apes which we share common ancestry with have been observed to carry out very similar acts, albeit in very dissimilar contexts, such as the consumption of infants or, particularly in the case of chimpanzees, the eating of young snatched from other families in very deliberate acts of primal warfare – a precursor to the tribalism they will no doubt later develop.

Humans, for all their moral posturing and delusions of separation from the horrors of the natural world, are not exempt from the above, as both history and its psychic shadow of mythology are rife with instances of cannibalism – the subconscious traces of a ghoulish racial memory, one which is alive and well in the dark corners of the earth, and even within the boundaries of ‘civilised’ society, the forbidden act of consuming human flesh is not unheard of.

Early humans displayed cannibalistic tendencies for largely the same reasons as their ape cousins did – sheer practical need. A body no doubt lure predators to the rest of the tribe, and so it stands to reason that the best and most efficient way to dispose of the material was to eat it, which just so happened to address matters of nutrition as well. While a human body might not be the most ideal source of nutrition, it was remarkably accessible besides, as defending one’s area from invaders would no doubt result in a surplus of freshly killed meat lying about. Furthermore, hunting larger prey is dangerous if done by a group and near-suicidal if done alone, many animals taking quite a bit of abuse from primitive tools before going down, and not before injuring a member of the hunting party or two. A person, however, could be inncapacitied with comparatively little work – a rock in the temple, for example – and yield a sufficient return besides. This type of primitive efficiency is seen in the modern day as well, as various tribes of Papua New Guinea (including the infamous Asmat, who supposedly killed and ate Nelson Rockefeller), Africa, and throughout the Pacific islands.

As human societies grew more complex, evolving from the most rudimentary kinds of proto-culture to something more recognisable, the exact reasons for acts of cannibalism grew more abstract, as there was no longer as immediate a need to capitalise on any and all opportunities to eat, nor was there as much of a need to avoid luring predators with corpses. Many of the tribal cultures still practicing cannibalism do so for magical-religious reasons, such as to take on the power and attributes of a foe – the African warlord humourously known as ‘General Butt-Naked’ is said to have partaken in cannibalism for precisely these reasons! Another good example of post-primitive cannibalism for spiritual reasons more than practical is the practice of the Indian Aghori sect, a Shaivite tradition which has become infamous for its rather morbid rites, including eating the flesh of the recently deceased. However, unlike previously mentioned examples, they do not kill or harm anyone for their strange communion, and such practices are intended for them to truly know God – after all, how can one say they love and respect creation if they only accept the parts which are pleasing to the senses? Are not the deathly and grotesque also a part of nature, and the rot which feeds life? Furthermore, exposure to such unpleasant stimuli takes no small amount of willpower to override a feeling of revulsion towards the act, and it is through willingly taking part in difficult practices, such as eating the recently deceased, that they develop a state of absolute domination over the lesser parts of themselves which might feel fear or disgust.

Almost as if the practice of devouring one another is hard-coded into human nature, cannibalistic acts are not limited to the carnal and fleshy. Ideas are subject to being preyed upon in this way, the growth of mythos rarely, if ever, being a spontaneous phenomenon. As cultures interact with both each other and themselves, their various memes undergo changes to reflect the very real movement of people. Most immediately relatable in a broader Sinister context is the way in which folk European traditions were adapted as the region underwent its conversion to Nazarene practices. Instead of merely erasing the native ways and mythos of a given area, they were instead devoured by the Christian organism and thus, made part of it in such a way as to strengthen the organism and help it to adapt to its environment. This is seen in the transmutation of local deities and spirits from mostly benign entities to ghouls, devils, and evil things which snatch away children and livestock. For example, the Devil in modern popular culture is often shown with decidedly goat-like features in the form of cloven hooves and horns, while also possessing very carnal appetites and a certain mischievous inclination. Imagery of the Devil as an anthropomorphic goat-man is not canonical to any sect of Christianity, and is rather the product of demonising, quite literally, the ancient god Cernunnos, who was worshiped by the Celtic peoples, and similarly, the Fauns, Satyrs, and their lord Pan, who were part of the Hellenic cultures to the southeast. Both Cernunnos and Pan shared a similar horned man-beast appearance, as well as their considerable hunger for all manner of sensual gratification – quite possibly the most literal, archetypal depiction of that which is considered ‘Pagan’ – and so the deities previously revered by a people were ‘cannibalised’ as they transitioned from the old ways to their regional flavour of Christianity. Other folk deities across Europe underwent a similar process, such as the north’s Allfather Odin, who formed the basis for the modern archetypal witch, and also from the north, the underworld place of the dead known as Hel, whose later inclusion in Nazarene mythos is obvious. It was not an outside force that endeavoured to suppress old-world traditions in this way either, but elements within each of the cultures, those who swallowed up their own gods, regurgitating them as the politically necessary devils of a new religious form. As cultures shift into new paradigms, their old ways are consumed, and absorbed into the younger, thus contributing to its growth – not unlike young spiders devouring their mother after birth.

Just as humans prey on their own mythos to create new ones, the mythos themselves also feature instances of people being killed for the purpose of being eaten. In the Greek tale of King Lycaon, for example, the titular king makes a rather foolish attempt at testing Zeus. Lycaon secretly murdered his own son, and then prepared him as a meal for Zeus. Outraged, whether at the moral bankruptcy of the act or the insult to his divine intelligence, or both, Zeus turned Lycaon into a wolf-man as punishment. This story has both literal and symbolic components, as the Greeks found themselves utterly revolted by the savage religious practices of their neighbors, which supposedly included cannibalism, and so their disgust was reflected in their own mythos as a reflection of their societal values. In addition, one of the themes of many Greek myths is that of arrogance. That Zeus chose to react to this one instance implies it was the specific action of a mortal daring to test him which drew his ire, as the practice had obviously predated the Greeks and indeed all of civilisation – where then are the other Lycaonians?

Another instance of like-devouring-like, this time in Latin, involves the figure of Eumolpus within the Satyricon. Unlike the Greek tale of Lycaon, the cannibalism of Eumolpus was not an act of mortal hubris, but one of necessity for financial gain. Eumolpus is an unextraordinary poet posing as a wealthy individual in order to exploit those who might proverbially bend over backwards in order to gain his inheritance, and indeed, all manner of fawning candidates went to great lengths to appease him. Unable to keep up the ruse, Eumolpus has his will read to the gathered ‘inheritors’, which proclaims that, in order to receive any ‘inheritance’ they must eat his dead body in public. Naturally, the condition of being required to eat Eumolpus’ dead body was intended to ward off those who expected what could not be provided, but it also speaks to the mindset of those who would seek out in some way the legacy of their forebears, as they put on all manner of disingenuous fronts and superficial displays in a shallow attempt at courting approval and thus, assurances of inheritance – and the post-mortem division of assets and legacies does indeed resemble the butchery of a carcass, often done ravenously, as though the inheritors were tearing the corpse apart in the street and swallowing great fistfuls of viscera.

How curiously do we come full circle.

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Devilry – A Revival of Traditional Satanism

Shakespeare said “Hell is empty and all the devils are here”. I believe, nothing knows the depths of evil better than people. As I see it, none can know the artistry of a painting better than its creator. There is a place that artists live in during our rituals of creation. Let’s call it a dimension of infinite potentiality; a realm in which, the artist contrasts the shadows from its highlights. As the artist assigns the values, a pattern appears.

This means that what is permitted is brought forward and what is forbidden is driven deep into absence; outcasted. An image formed with perfection in mind. Yet the scope of the creation’s beauty is magnified when you begin to contemplate what is intentionally removed. If this creation was composed of words and ideas the consideration of what is preference would become antithetical. Creating a dynamic challenge between them.

Since people are the authors of evils, they portray them with an image of perfection. Creating the contrast between permissible and forbidden. Thus the permissive, through popular sentiment and aesthetic preference, becomes orthodoxy. Ulteriorly that which is taboo or forbidden takes up the form of heresy.

With the purpose of not dragging the analogy out further than necessary; no uniformed interpretation of art can be embraced by all. Each artist calls forth selected qualities within their works. The subtle and sometimes stark heresies give rise to variants of beauty in popular culture. As a particular culture is defined by its creative manifestation and palettes of taste; there becomes a clear ideology of what is deemed ugly, undesirable, and ultimately labeled evil. Hold in mind that art needs it’s critics.

The Devil Within Us:

There’s is an old dichotomy debated within the diabolic circles. It is the born-versus-made contention. The prior sees that one either possesses innate qualities of devilry, including latently, or one doesn’t. Whereas the former only strikes a subtle deviation, concluding that all hold this as a potential predisposition to the diabolic. I find myself, in agreement that we are born.

My certainty comes with the recognition of the sheep flocking behind every would be shepard. The moving from one grassy knoll to the next is akin to the effortless way the branches of the trees sway in the moderate wind. People are truly like that, so many sleepwalkers, so little presence of true self-awareness. To stand back and observe it; you begin to see the magnificent symphony as it’s conductor manifests. Suddenly the recognition of separateness unveils an awareness sometimes acute but persistent.

This first shock, this “revelation” is a momentary awakening. From within, the shadow finds itself alerted. Much like a sharp note within a scale. Through this comes a realization that you are not as flaccid and bendable as has been witnessed. Clearly your sense of composure clashes. It is at the moment, that we pick up “our brush” in an effort to make a better work, that we encroach the profane.

From that point forward, we become the critic. It is precisely the formation of alternative values and objective criticism which leads to offense among the indoctrinated sleepers. The heavier the critique, the harder they’ll rail against it. Sleepers, by in large, don’t want to be awakened, and the very existence of something that could potentially disturb them is unnerving.

In nature, it’s not uncommon to see indifference to those triggers from one species to another as they continue along the way. It is more common though, to see a species take advantage and use it to ensnare it’s prey. Without conscience acknowledgement of otherness. Thus the born argument is affirmed.

The Infernal Eminence:

Let us now examine the most prominent characteristics of the diabolic. These are fiercely inscribed upon the heart of, and dare I say, ingrained within the souls of the horde. Non Serviam, there can be no surrender. The Law of the Jungle, while usually this is phrased as “survival of the fittest”; that is a misstep in understanding. This isn’t as true about survival; as it is true about thriving. Domination, no matter the tactics used, is evidenced through strength.

Morior Invictus, I die unvanquished. Nothing is more glorious than the passion of the trumpets echoing the city walls. Excellence is a pursuit worthy of any gambit. Trust and kinship are earned, not given. Loyalty is the fruit of our union through them.

Lex Talionis, what’s taken out must be put back in. There is a caveat though, your word must be your bond. Your accolades and retributions equally swift and exact. The motto, fuck around and find out.

Morality is a house built of flimsy cards, but honour is a brickmade stronghold. The more principled and resolute your conviction to nobility is, the more weight your words and actions will hold. Truth is the black flamed sword thrusting down upon fraud and corruption. Thus from the corpse, we cut away only what is useful. Culling that which is unfit for consumption.

We only have the certainty of one life to which we live. Therefore we must love fully and completely, when we love. We must work hard and relentlessly when we lust, albeit for affection, power, or prowess. No matter the sacrifice required. No matter how large or small the task. Our measure of its worth must be convincing. No permission needed, there’s no apology necessary.

In these times, those more concerned with their own honour than social acceptance, are truly the devils of the today. Stand strong, in the face of demonization and ridicule. Hold fast to your principles and values, as you ride out the raining arrows. If you fall, rub some dirt in it and become a Phoenix. Scorching everything as you rise.

Live Deliberately!

– Dread Xeno

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Immortal Homeland

For most of my life, I have been interested in my own ancestry. There is a certain pride that can be had in knowing exactly where the roots are and how deep they go. So much of us is composed by such things. Yet, we must recognize that this only maps what came before us.

It’s easy to allow yourself to be defined by your heritage. In a very real way, we cannot be separated from the echoes of our forefathers. This leaves two questions unanswered though. Who are we as the individual standing before the world? What will our legacy be?

As you can imagine, these can be difficult questions to answer. Those answers can be received on many different levels. What do I mean by that? Throughout history a small handful of people have left legendary marks upon the world. Some positive and some negative, but history remembers them.

Some have held no impact and were content to go quietly into the night. There are those who have been shadowed by another greater than them during their time. History ignored them despite their achievements. Their bloodline though, it holds onto certain qualities in memory.

This is one path to immortality. What you do and what you stand for, are key in answering the question of who you are. They foreshadow and begin forming the answer of what your legacy will be. It’s important to understand that, like your ancestry, your legacy cannot be the sole focus of your being. Even if the destination is within your line of sight, you must remain aware of your footing upon the path.

Imagine if Thomas Paine had been concerned with these things. Would “Common Sense” hold any sense at all? Paine was focused on what he stood for and was sure of who he was. This is a man whose writings poured fuel on the fires of two revolutions. Love him or hate him, he is now “an immortal”.

One thing of note, no matter where he resided he sought to impact the land he inhabited. This is an act of deep patriotism and a testament to the power of conviction. Patriotism is not simply a fidelity to the Nation-State, but to the people of that land. It’s not enough for us to simply think about the future of our children, we must be concerned for the future of our land.

This can be a very complicated matter to digest. Especially when you are born into a festering of rot and corruption. There are no clear or easy solutions for it. To compound matters, just about the time you get your bearings in what might be beneficial, the rebelliousness of youth is slipping away.

In the times of old, this was remedied by radicalizing through indoctrination of the youth. At the pinnacle of the age of enlightenment, we cross over into an age of wisdom. Through years of practical experience and maturation of comprehension, a clear vision forms. It seems only natural that we would attempt to hasten the process of “enlightening” the youth and guide them to action. Often this is in effort to reach for “immortality”.

Therein lies the fundamental obstacle. Great care must be taken in the work. Too much “foresight” is as dangerous as hindsight. To stand alone upon the claim of heritage, is as pretentious as it comes. Merit that is underserved. Too much focus upon your legacy, often leads to delusions of grandeur. Once again merit that is underserved. Instead focus on your footing, remain within the moment. Remain a patriot to the “people of your land”.

-Live Deliberately

Dread Xeno

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Lost in the Storm

Just past the horizon, the pressure is building up. It moves from a state of calm into a symphony of rage and transformation. It seems like, this always happens when it approaches the point of being overwhelmed. As things get heavier and heavier, they also grow darker and more volatile. The motion sets in, and it begins its path towards relief. Soon its inner parts will begin crashing about. As it begs for easement, it’s motion gains velocity.

This however only serves to continue the buildup. Approaching the boiling point, the violence increases exponentially. Finding itself not in agreement with its own state, it begins targeting the grounds which have previously served to stabilize it. The polarization leads to a spectacle of dazzling fury and wrath. Burning and breaking everything between.

All of this energy is tremendous, yet impossible to maintain. Having reached its saturation point, the drops begin to fall. They fall with the same intensity of the buildup that led to this point. Down to that which has always grounded them. That of which, just moments ago was the focus of ferocity.

Most of the time, these stable grounds can simply absorb and remain unchanged through this. In a way, it has been cleansed also. What is between them now smelling and feeling freshly revived. There are these instances in which nothing remains the same. It is forever changed. Scarred.

There will always be a bond between them though. It is the nature of Her Will. Those scars serve to build character and in time help them both take a new shape. What was once lost in the Storm, now has found itself with a new fingerprint. A powerful and moving transformation.

At Her Will,
T.C. Downey

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Theatre of Awe

When I was a child, I would wake up just before the sunrise. I would pour myself a bowl of my favorite cereal. I would go sit at the picnic table in our backyard, and watch the stars and moon melt into the new dawning day. Those were some of the most magickal moments in my life. I’m not sure if it is normal at 6 or 7 years old to ponder the vastness of our universe, but that’s what I did. As I lost myself into thought, I would experience a moment of a connected feeling.

It is the moments of this connected feeling which have been with me throughout my days. At times it has been the anchor holding me from going adrift. Then times, where it has been the guiding light through the terrain of trials and tribulations. There are times it cloaks me in its darkness, so I might retreat and be concealed from life’s blinding gaze. Somehow always aware that, no matter the outcome, I am an extension of Her Will.

The Dread Mother’s supple breasts bring not only nourishment, but the possibility of suffocation. For as wrathful and uncompromising as she is; there is nurture and warmth in her embrace. If one should have an ear for it, the lessons of how to elicit these effects, can be plainly heard. Leaving her mysteries, barren and exposed. Her soft neck and shoulders are both inviting and tantalizing. Yearning to be explored. I often wonder, how has she gained such a hold on me.

I wonder what she was like when she was just anew. How she grew; what had changed and what remained. The scenery had to be breathtaking on this journey to now. I suspect she was born a star. The kind that exhume brilliant and vibrant radiance of galactic awe. Pressed against the vast emptiness of the void. Pulsating with the desire to burst and literally come into life.

It’s no question of why, she can sometimes be so scornful. The strength it took to get here, would cause one to have little pity for the weak. Yet we can find her at points, embracing the meek to shield them. Whispering softly in the ear, that everything will be alright. We might live or die. We might wither or thrive. Yet life will still go on. For She is Eternal.

At Her Service,
T.C. Downey

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