An Abyss Between

Yours is a love which breaks our life in two:
That we might cross the abyss between you
And the deafened outside. That we might hear
In life what pain you sing from beyond death.

Do we sully the sacred land we tread?
My hand falters and she writhes with your pain

If it may be called that without trespass.

To us you are a nightmare and a light
Shining from the dark’nd haven we chase,
But cut like we could not be cut in life.

Falters. And I am stopped silent, silenced
before the first truth I have known.

Lyra and her daemon. A silver blade.

A window closed. Worlds sealed apart in anguish.

(For RM and his immortal punisher- xLx).

A Message to the [----] Initiates

[Editorial note: this short invective has been censored, but will be published in an uncensored form when such would not be a hindrance to the strategic aims of its author].

Why is this group full of retards? With the exception of one or two of you, who may be deliberately playing some role, you are all scum who have nothing to gain from genuine esoteric study. I’d be hard pressed to find such a conglomeration of impotent misfits and misbegotten spawn of mediocrity if I went looking around various mundane forums.

That most of you associate yourself with an elitist ethos is beyond hilarity. You are not an elite: you are the cosmic debris thrown up into the air, without the slightest conscious understanding of your nature or direction, by the actions of an elite.

Is this group the [----]‘s filtration system? Is this the easy-to-find place set up so that the various lost little people who will inevitably wander towards any group with a public presence such as the [----]‘s have somewhere to conjoin, without wasting the time of anybody of genuine intent?

Is [-----]‘s job to maintain this operation– to keep you all in your (very appropriate) little pen?

If what I’m saying were accurate, perhaps I shouldn’t say it; but, the stench of failure, and utter absence of vision, reeks so strong that there’s no need to keep you all out of the way. You are marked. There is no being what you are not, for those such as you. In the absence of the mundane laws for which you should really be very thankful, a genuine traditional initiate would, seeing that mark, be the first to bleed you dry as a gift to the earth whose surface you sully.

(Oh, and honour? Honour is for kin, not for kindling for the flames of immolation).

xLx

An Exchange Between Seekers

I feel so lost. I remember that little boy in his dark materials who went out into the cold crying for his daemon. But it wasn’t there.  I remember you. Dimly. So disorientated.  My love what shall I do?  I feel the life being sucked out of me. Childhood memories.  Fear of dementors.  Dark shapes in the brightest places.  Hoping I will soon be numb, not convinced.

Lyra, causing more pain, driven in no direction.  Crucified on the edge of the universe.  Ah!

-Initate 1

I know.

But what should you do?

Be strong, by trusting in us and your own inherent power, and so that we can create.

I know how hard it is. How harsh and resistant the world we encounter can be. How the scattered rays of heaven that once seemed to be cast, rarely, into and throughout the world can seem dim and worthless in comparison to what we can be– which is no mere ray, but a sun.

I know the pain, and the deepest, most integral sensitivity and empathy which it strikes against and brings forth in anguish. Which they and their cynicism strike against. Which selling yourself to their mediocrity and barren carelessness everyday strikes against.

But I know that I won’t be meek, or hide on the fringes of their world, cherishing what they don’t need to eliminate merely because it is not directly threatening them. I know that we have a rage in us which can drive us to burn our mark into the fabric of the coming aeon, as a heralding call to all who are of us and all who could rise beyond themselves: the rage of heaven.

Better a short rest than a long one. Carry on fighting. To them, we never surrender. To them, we never submit.

We bide our time, but only so that we can make our aim true.

-Initiate 2

xLx

Apocalypse by Stealth

The hush, the whistle and scrape of dead leaves on concrete.  A slight high moan of wind rushing through gutted towers.  And the burbling hum of a city in stasis.

Humanity has long been deserted by this place.   What would pride serve here, where greatness is sacrificed to expediency?

Though they may have left, their gods remain; working, never ceasing, hum.

Shorn from the side of their own creation, blown to the sky by its harsh derision; there to fly or fall.

Yet two feet remain.  A strong pair, well worn, that stride purposefully through the autumn leaves, making harsh slashing sounds as they forge a path through this bronze mantle.  These feet are not of the city, they are foreign.  Where did they come from?  Not from the sky, no they came from the river which carries through the arrested heart, undermining it  with motion and change.   These feet are the river incarnate.

Elemental man, the owner of the feet, owns nothing more or less than his body.  Yet his purpose is great as he strides for the bridge which carries the weight of a hundred humming.  He arrives, he pauses.  And then he steps into the path of the humming and is cut down, almost as if he had been an unsubstantial ghost.

Almost.  But the time taken to cut him down, however efficient, is still time.  It now happens that one fewer car passes through that phase of traffic lights, and that this anomaly cannot be assimilated.  The next car crashes into it, propels it forward into the path of flow.  A flow that does not pause but seconds later has ascended to chaos, a cacophony catawauling.  Altars of time desecrated and cast up to heaven, burning fragments to be thrown back to earth.  The ascendance spreads, stopping all movement and breaking stasis, scattering libations to the four winds the machines essay their Human Gods: in vain.  They cry, they call, they moan,

‘We, we are your descendants.  Cast you your wrath upon your own kin?’

Verily you are, but is not pruning, even of kin, a prerequisite to our flight?

The body of elemental man lies face-upwards, thrown into the river by randomness and chaos; his eyes wide to the destruction caused just by his demise.  He ends, and for this man, it is true that the world ends with him, the last, and only to see the soaring fragments, the heat of and the haze with it; the rising inferno.  Lying face-upwards in the still, clear, blue waters, his sorrow makes the river flow.  And as his eyes blur and close, his lungs heave with liquid and his face sinks beneath the surface; all closes in with a hush.

Its legacy, a single leaf, floating…

….. genesis….

 

-Alice (xLx)

Words: Vega (xLx).

Collage: Alice (xLx).

The Acausal: intimated

The following was written near to the time that its author was initiated, and with the notion that it would be used exclusively for personal reference in mind. It is not intended as didactic, and should probably just be ignored by anybody except bored adepts [-Vega]:

The causal is contained within the acausal; the acausal is not contained within the causal.

The acausal is not devoid of causality; yet, it is not confined to the causality of ‘the causal’,  as ‘the causal’ is at any point within its own species of linearity.

The acausal cannot be presenced in the causal except by means of suicidal causality.

‘Acausal’ is causal at first.

‘Causal’ is acausal later.

Beyond that, I cannot say.

Beyond that, I am not.

Beyond that, I am.

I can speak, but you cannot hear unless you can also; you can only be drawn.

And my words must destroy each other, in you, for me to speak from beyond.

I must be both of your false dualities, and thereby imbue you with another in opposition to them, when they become two shades of one spectrum;  then the new two will also become one. Ad infinitum, or only twice? Both, I think.

This dialectic will destroy you, and thereby give you life.

The hyper-causal is another way, which can take causality beyond itself; the best victim is such, and not a young boy of perfect innocence. Slay it by dominating it and its highest antithesis via their union.

xLx

Integration: threads intertwining.

The following are various pertinent threads, sometimes distinct and sometimes intertwining, woven over the past two years by this site’s authors. They were, for the most part, possessed of some practical pre-alchemical or alchemical intent; however, they were also subject, at times, to the ill-discipline, misunderstanding, and general sub-humanity which afflicts pre-initiates such as I (Vega), at least, was. They are noted here, without editing, because there is no need to obfuscate such past actions, in the service of cultivating some selective self-representation, before the eyes of any reader who is insightful enough to be worth writing for; not in so far as this site and its purpose are concerned.

Prefatory note on our use of names: the name ‘Vega’ has only been used by one, biologically male individual. The name ‘Alice’ has only been used by one, biologically female individual. These two individuals are partners, in magic and in life. The name ‘Lyra’, and all associated accounts, has been used by multiple individuals of different sexes, and will continue to be used as so, and (in a stellar unity) beyond such, in future.

The XIII experiment, background (both pages): http://enfpforum.com/enfpforum/Home/tabid/55/afv/topic/aff/8/aft/59/afpg/1/Default.aspx

Information about the XIII experiment (you need to create an account to see this, and you wouldn’t be able to read the other relevant posts without one): http://www.intpforum.com/showpost.php?p=138968&postcount=40

(The Lyra account is not a part of the XIII experiment; all other accounts were). Lyra’s intpforum archive (also used to post Vega’s material): click on the ‘statistics’ tab at http://www.intpforum.com/member.php?u=2629

Skinfilter archive: http://eso.terica.net/skinfilter/author/october/

theoccult.bz account (use the search function, placing ‘Vega’ in the author field and choosing to sort by ‘Post time’, to see the archive): http://theoccult.bz/userdetails.php?id=29231

ONA articles/sites featuring Lyra’s words, and Vega’s words under Lyra’s name:

Dark Imperium-

Star Game Musings – Esoterikos

Embracing Atavism

PointyHat-

‘Sinister Quote of the Month’

On Myatt, various-

The Mygnath Triad

Wikipedia and David Myatt

Return to the Numinous Way

‘Perspicacious Comment about Myatt’ (also hosted by our allies at the Washington State Nexus).

And, closest to her heart:

Voiceless

and

Aeons Through Starry Eyes

xLx