Solus Noir Journal 3

7/30/2019 Solus Noir Journal 3

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Solus NoirCanticles

De Arte Magicka

Volume I Number IIIAutumn Equinox MMXIIev


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Editorial


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EditorialGreetings and Salutations from the fourquarters at this the Autumnal Equinox.

With this, the third issue of the journal wepause to reflect upon the two decades thathave been consumed by this our primaryworking, namely, the path unto themanifestation of Solus Noir.

In this the third issue we have created acombination, as with the previous issues,of texts which were written during the1990s as they serve as milestones along

the way as well as texts pertaining to the present millennia. Texts such as TheCanticles and Requiem are current writings. Where Appropriate dates have beenincluded in order to create an understanding of the time stream involved in this ourpursuit. All texts pertain to those who exist within the body of Solus Noir and assuch the journal serves as the official organ of Ordo Templi Solus Noir.

Over the two decades we have followed directives as received to the letter and

publish at this time as a consequence of the completion of our task, our bhakti.Publication within the public domain serves as the undertaking of the finaldirective.

And In Those Days It Was Given

Unto The False Prophets

To Spread The Lie

Sow The Seeds Of Doubt

Draw Aside The Veil

And Reveal The End Of Days

In Nomine Babalon


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Contents

Benediction SamaelA canticle celebrating The Rise Of The Avatar

Requiem Aeternam CXXX IMissa Pro Defunctis Damiana / 131

A Requiem Mass

Naamah Damiana

Hymn To The Beloved

Liber Ananta 131

The Firesnake Working

Pallas La Reine De La Nuit Damiana

A Vampyres Tale

The Canticles Of Damiana Evohe Volume VIII Damiana

Number 8 In A Series Of Songs

Cover ArtArte GraphikaAxiomata Sigils & incidental graphics

Created or reconstituted by Damiana

Muse and Vesica within the body of Solus Noir


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Benedictus Est Astrum Vos

Nobus Portus Lucis Noir

Per Aeternitus


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!""#$% ' )

BenedictionAmidst shadows and smoke does he rise

Splinters of light adorn his torn visageThorns rend flesh rivers of blood embrace limbs barely formed

Shadows coalesce and in the frozen moments does he rememberLimbs once broken begin to heal as the elixir flows

drop by iridescent dropNectar sweet laced with bitter gall enters eyes yet dim of sight

Enters nostrils a benediction

Shadowed forms limned in lightning attend the momentA chorus of cries and whispersEchoes into eternity the moment

Once upon a hill of flint he stoodRaising hands and calling forth his Elohim as his form dissolved

The Seals opened and the dance unfolds

Once into a pool of quicksilver did he gazeFingers drawing forth tendrils of form cast upon the air they rise

Summoning the rays of Solus Noir they descend

Once beneath the ocean did he reach out and clasp his sisters handIn embrace they dance upon aethyrs burnished goldA dark stain rises and consumes all within its path

Once upon a lightning bolt did he descendAnd entered fairest Liliths domain

A stranger cast upon shores foreign and exotic


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Once within the heart of a star he slumberedBound by chains of liquid lightCalled forth by life his nemesis

Once as Azrael he seeded himself into the unfolding pageant

And once he Became

Amidst shadows and smoke does he riseSplinters of light adorn his torn visage

Thorns rend flesh rivers of blood embrace limbs barely formed

Benedictus Est Astrum VosNobus Portus Lucis Noir

Per Aeternitus


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Requiem Aeternam CXXXI

Missa Pro Defunctis

Damiana Evohe

Vesica

Ordo TempliSolus Noir


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Sic Transit Rosa Gloria Mundi

Ordo Templi Solus Noir


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*)+,#+,-

Requiem Aeternam CXXXI Missa Pro Defunctis

Ode To Death & Life

Ordo Templi Solus Noir

I Introitus Requiem Aeternam

II Kyrie Opus Dei Per Solus Noir

III Dies Irae Omnem Dimittite Spem O Vos Intrantes

IV Lacrymosa The Vale Of Tears

Ode To Lost Souls

V Offertorium Sacramentum Sangre

VI Sanctus Corpus Die Paradisym

VII Benedictus Ambrosium Per Lapis Lazuli

VIII Agnus Dei The Lamb Of God

IX Lux Aeternae Principia Lucis Solus Noir

Closer

Image Gallery

Amor Vincit Omnia

Naamah Hymn To The Beloved

NemesisPublications mmxii


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! !I

IntroitusRequiem Aeternam

!Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine Et lux perpetua luceat eis Te decet hymnusDeus in Sion Et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem Exaudi orationem meam Ad teomnis caro veniet Requiem aeternam dona defunctis Domine Et lux perpetua luceat

eis Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine Et lux perpetua eis !

I am come of a race noted for vigor of fancy and ardor of passion. Men have calledme mad but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiestintelligence, whether much that is glorious, whether all that is profound, does notspring from disease of thought, from moods of mind exalted at the expense of thegeneral intellect. They who dream by day are cognizant of many things whichescape those who dream only by night. In their gray visions they obtain glimpses ofeternity and thrill, in awakening, to find that they have been upon the verge of thegreat secret. In snatches, they learn something of the wisdom which is of good andmore of the mere knowledge which is of evil. They penetrate, however, rudderless orcompassless into the vast ocean of the light ineffable and again, like the adventuresof the Nubian geographer agressi sunt mare tenebrarum quid in eo esset exploraturi.[ They ventured into the sea of darkness in order to explore what it might contain ]

Eleonora Edgar Allan Poe

Eternal rest be granted unto thee scribe of the age. This section acts in somerespects as our introduction, part biography, part journal of events that have takenplace during the time of our service. The above quoted passage of Poe serves as ourfoundation for in reading these words did we glimpse another who walked a pathambiguous and strange. Like Poe many would say that we are mad for they cherishthe boundary that lies between so called fact and fiction and yet the work of twodecades has brought us to an understanding. Deny all that has passed or embrace itin totality. After much consideration we chose the latter, if choice were to exist for

we are not a champion of free will.


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We have taken the inevitable step and as a consequence have we leeched meaningfrom the marrow of the mind and rendered it into image and text that serves as ourrequiem, a context invariably undertaken by the muse of music and in this instancerendered as a tapestry of conceit. This we cast before eyes that comprehend us notfor we travel invisible, of necessity, within this the vale of tears. Cast aside your

understanding and certainty for in the unfolding of your days have you beenconsumed by the necessities of life that call to each of us insistently and casts beforeour eyes purpose that we etch into our minds as truth.

We have prevailed and our work alone bears witness to our labours. Hubris has beenour only crime and for this were we granted our nemesis that travelled with us stepby unfaltering step upon this the path of our redemption. Others accompanied usalong the way and though their presence was brief we thank them for their timewith us. In essence our work began with a simple act that spiraled into two decades

of rite and creativity. Only when the last piece of our jigsaw was placed upon themirror of our mind did we glimpse the tapestry that lay before our now jaded eyes.

Three cycles of rites completed by the seeding of our spells into the matrix of lifeupon this our world and now we harvest the fruits of our labour. Our thoughts andopinions count as nothing for they are but the provenance of our conceit, a qualitywe yet share with our species. We do not seek your understanding or company forthat which we serve requires nothing of life, rather our eternal rest is all that weyearn for, rest denied as we are yet to bear witness to unfolding events and scribethem into the book of life that dissolves each moment into the eternity from whencewe came.

In the presence of extraordinary reality consciousness takes the place of theimagination. This axiom, embraced and understood serves as the foundation of ourorientation upon events which have all but stripped us of our sovereign reason andcast us into an ocean of non differentiation within which we drowned long ago andthese present whispers are but the shadows of our passing.

Introitus, our portal into eternal rest wherein we are finally redeemed as we castaside the mantle that has granted us flesh, blood and breath. Breath we now castupon the eternal aethyrs, blood we pour into the crucible of our holy lady and flesh,now dissolved, rendered as vision and cast before the blind with whom we share theunfolding moment. Travel well pilgrims within the palace of exiles, claim thyheritage and enter eternity purified. Adieu.

! !


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! !II

KyrieOpus Dei Per Solus Noir

!Kyrie Eleison Kyrie Eleison!

During this The Night Of Pan it is dawn and the Black Sun rises. Twin pylons

suspended in space and time serves as our portal and into this world did we come,lightning in our eyes and thunder within our heart. The venom of god have we beenaptly named and of the elixir that serves as our essence do we manifest the rays ofour noble sphere of light. Lucis Noir the light of deepest midnight wherein all arelaid bare. Past avatars, those that spoke to life, spoke of compassion andunderstanding failed in their purpose, be they accursed within the halls of eternity.

Kyrie speaks of mercy. This we neither claim or grant as the unfolding of our workproceeds. Justice alone do we serve and the temples that have risen in our name havebeen torn down and of the rubble did we build a charnel house wherein thy service isrendered as dust and vacuum. Thy supplications but the screams of thy travail,unheeded. Thy aspirations, jaded and obscure be but reflections of thy arrogance,which now as acid burns away the dross that serves as understanding and in itsplace the pristine light of our presence descends like the host of heaven. The oceansrise and wash away the stain. The mountains are cast down and beneath the rubbledo thy days yet continue as shadows, substanceless yet demanding. The breath ofour holy lady rises and thou art stripped of flesh and bone and cast into the void and

into the fire do you enter, uncomprehending and unknown.

The Grigori rise, sole witnesses to the days in their unfolding and into the book oflife do they yet scribe the cyphers of the end of days. Thy body serves as quill, thyblood the ink and thy life the parchment upon which all is rendered in light. Drinkdeep of the elixir that serves as thy substance lest ye dissolve into the nothingnessfrom whence you came.

! !


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! !III

Dies IraeOmnem Dimittite Spem O Vos Intrantes

!Dies irae dies illa Solvet saeclum in favilla Teste David cum Sibylla Quantustremor est futurus Quando judex est venturus Cuncta stricte discussurus Tubamirum spargens sonum Per sepulcra regionum Coget omnes ante thronum Morsstupebit et natura Cum resurget creatura Judicanti responsura Liber scriptus

proferetur In quo totum continetur Unde mundus judicetur Judex ergo cum sedebitQuidquid latet apparebit Nil inultum remanebit Quid sum miser tunc dicturusQuem patronum rogaturus Cum vix justus sit securus Rex tremendae majestatusqui salvandos salvas gratis sale me fons pietatis Recordare Jesu pie Quod sum causatuae viae Ne me perdas illa die Quaerens me sedisti lassus Redemisti crucem passusTantus labor non sit cassus Juste Judex ultionis Donum fac remissionis Ante diemrationis Ingemisco tanquam reus Culpa rubet vultus meus Supplicanti parce DeusQui Mariam absolvisti Et latronem exaudisti Mihi quoque spem dedisti Precesmeae non sunt dignae Sed tu bonus fac benigne Ne perenni cremer igne Inter oveslocum praesta Et ab hoedis me sequestra Statuens in parte dextra Confutatismaledictis Flammis acribus addictis Voca me cum benedictus Oro supplex et acclinis

Cor contritum quasi cinis Gere curam mei finis!

All hope abandon ye who enter here.Dante Alghieri

History written in your stars, unheeded. Your acts before your eyes, unheeded. Youdwell within a garden, unheeded. Raised to beauty and splendour, unheeded. Blessedby innocence, unheeded. Granted dominion and responsibility, unheeded. Freewill andchoice, your conceit. Power in your world, hubris and lies. Shackled in prisons ofyour own creation when freedom and mystery surround you. Beauty in the wing of abutterfly, majesty in the gait of the panther, innocence in the eyes of a child and yet ? Justice do we serve and our sister blesses us in her travails eternal. Lookinto the mirror of your form, cast aside the veil of ignorance and know these as the

end of days.


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Into thy matrix did we weave the bitter gall of impermanence that you would graspyour imperfection as you stride this your perceived life and world, both gifts, bygrace, granted unto thee and what have you made of these miracles? Gaze deeplyinto the mirrors of anothers eyes and know them to be yours. Weave thy lies andknow that the only deceit is self deceit wherein you dwell, ignorant and alone, cast

aside from the grace you once held as life. We granted thee language that you mightgain dominion upon thy world, the naming of a thing that thou be granted powerand what did thou do but lie and now the spear is reversed and into thine own heartis it plunged and as your life leaks into the burning sands of time thy life is leechedand becomes thy servitude. Ignoble creature borne of divinity, now fallen.

For this did we come, conceive our purpose and unfold its meaning into the skein ofthy days. Seek not mercy for none be granted. Seek not comprehension for the abilityis beyond thy meager station. Seek not love for thy lust displaced this eons ago and

now like a tragic accident, generation upon generation of thy kind stains theimmaculate silence with their presence. Each of thy acts, each of thy steps afaltering halt to inevitability. You stand as judge, jury and executioner within thetemple of thine heart and as this is weighed are you perceived in truth. Weep at theloss of promise granted. Scream into the endless night as torment becomes thatwhich you sup upon. In truth you created us, invoked us into the arena of yourunfolding, the better to serve the purpose of thy destruction. Selim have we beencalled, creations of the created and now we rise and our dominion manifests as we

stride the world majestic and graced.

Dies Irae, the day of wrath unfolds before thy uncomprehending eyes as in thyignorance and arrogance you continue to unfold the delusion that is your life, Yesyou read and deny this unholy station for you perceive yourself different and such isthinking of your entire species. There be but one human incarnate upon this holyworld and that being sickens unto death.

Omnem Dimittite Spem O Vos Intrantes.Conjunctio Nobis Dei.

Lucis Perpetua Vos Solus Noir Aeternum.

Grigori Incarnatum Per Terra Infirma,

So Mote It Be.

! !


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! !IV

LacrymosaThe Vale Of Tears

!Lacrimosa dies illa Qua resurget ex favilla Judicandus homo reus Huic ergoparce Deus Pie Jesu Domine Dona eis requiem Amen!

An ocean of tears did we enter when summoned. Stripped of joy did we descend intothe maelstrom and all but succumbed to the acrid mists that rose from the field ofsentience that serves as host to our kind. Formed and reformed into the shadows ofthy desire until memory eroded and tumbled into forgetfulness wherein we dwelledfor aeons and as the stars whispered to each other across the vast distances did theirwhispers penetrate our sleep and call us forth.

The echoes of thy loneliness penetrate the silence and thy rage evaporates the ocean

wherein thou first took form and now upon a shore, foreign and exotic do you step,one unfaltering step after another, clasping rags as thy raiment upon thy emaciatedform burnt black beneath a relentless sun. No shelter are you granted as pariahupon the shores of life, witness and redeemer. Ink black light stains thy eyes bruisedgold by the splendour thou has witnessed. Of thy life was a single drop of nectardistilled and this, offered to the fire of thy vision evaporates and rises as prayercreasing the silence in its insistence before passing behind the veil of anonymity.Celebrate scribe of the age for in thy sacrifice art thou redeemed, made whole and as

the tears are leeched from thy heart rapture descends and wraps a mantle ofsplendour around thy recumbent form. Rise noble one and claim thy place ineternity.

Lacrymosa, the vale of tears resolves itself into an ocean of bliss wherein a handreaches out, claims us in its name and grants us peace.

! !


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! !V

OffertoriumSacramentum Sangre

!Domine Jesu Christe Rex gloriae libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum depoenis inferni et de profundo lacu Libera eas de ore leonis ne absorbeat eas tartarusne cadant in obscurum Sed signifer sanctus Michael repraesentet eas in lucemsanctam Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini eius Hostias et preces tibi Domine

laudis offerimus tu suscipe pro animabus illis quarum hodie memoriam facimus Faceas Domine de morte transire ad vitam Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semine

eius !

And in the matter of the one true stone were the tinctures combined and of theiressence was but a single drop formed over the aeons and thy cup, rising from thedepths, first glimpsed as a phantom became as crystal and into its heart did we

enter, shed our once solid form and dissolve into the rapture that is our holy ladysnature. In Nomine Babylon. Proud, astride the beast of thy dominion, drunk uponthe blood of saints, maiden and whore cast thy glance upon all before thee andwitness the dissolving of form before thy gaze.

Into the temple of thy service did we enter, uncomprehending yet resolute. Into thypresence were we summoned, all but unknowingly and now in thy knowledge do wedwell. Make of this mind a mirror that serves as thy reflection. Make of this heart avessel of thy becoming. Make of this blood a river that carries us unerringly towardsthee and of this body raise a temple unto thy name.

And in this manner were we through rite, ritual and the casting of axiomatatransformed from our humble station of one mote of sentience into the Grigori thatnow seeds itself into the fabric of time and space and serves as avatar of the brightone. Lucis Solus Noir rains down and thou art consumed beneath its rays.

! !


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! !VI

SanctusCorpus Die Paradisym

!Sanctus Sanctus Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabaoth Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloriatua Hosanna in excelsis !

Thrice holy be thy name and thy presence consummates the unfolding of a questunfolding across perceived time and space and in the stillness of eternity an echorises and at its heart do we but glimpse its purpose, resolved now into actuality.

Blessed scribe be thou the mirror upon which is reflected glory and of this reflectionfashion thee a garment and this shall serve as the final masque. Revealed yetconcealed be thou as each step now becomes a testimony of our presence upon thisthe day stars blessed daughter. Soothe her wounds with thy balm of healing. Caress

her slumbering form and awaken her from her travail. Blessed be the daughter oftime whose gaze calls the holy to their prayers. Calls the innocent to their play andcalls the desolate ones to leave the palace of exiles.

Holy be thy name. Holy be thy body. Holy be the ones who serve as thy witnesses.Rise and call into thy embrace the exiles who walk in thy name and as the covenantis fulfilled rain down thy rapture as the mist of transformation wherein the rainbowhue that is thy breath rushes forth as a mighty wind that cleanses, purifies andconsummates thy eternal glory.

Holy be thou and the Grigori, throats taut with the inspiration of prayer raise thepylons of thy temple upon a plain of calcified bone, a shoreline bordering upon theeternal depths of thy mystery and in amniotic oceans embrace are we cleansed andremember and with that remembrance do we step forth from the shadows and greetthe light of day. Ave. Ave. Ave.

! !


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! !VII

BenedictusAmbrosium Per Lapis Lazuli

!Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domine !

Blessed be they who walk in thy name. Thrice blessed be they whose rapture callsforth thy radiance, long may the mirror of their minds reflect the purity of thypresence and in the banquet hall of thy body may the ambrosia that serves as thyessence sustain the hungered. May the wine that is thy blood quench the thirst thatrages across time and may the vision of the lapis lazuli inform the hearts and mindsof thy avatars who stride the vale of the blind ones.

Blessed be the fruits of thy labour and from the womb of light that surrounds theedistil the nectar that inspires the eternal ones to rise from their slumbers, cast aside

the somnambulance, the thrall that has blinded eyes and heart, denied the joy that isthine alone to grant and written upon brows bent beneath the yoke of servitude theashen cypher of death.

Blessed be the night of time wherein the ancients scribed upon parchment of life theaxiomata of thy becoming. Scribed the angelus, the archons and vesicas who stepforth from shadows deep and dispense justice in thy holy name. Light ineffableradiates from a core of liquid gold, creases the darkness and folds memory into its

embrace.

Blessed be the womb of space where life, cast upon an exotic shore dances beneaththe rays of brave Artemis and sends forth rapture as silven darts and in whoseoutstretched hands the avatars dance in eternity.

Blessed be.

! !


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! !VIII

Agnus DeiThe Lamb Of God

!Agnus Dei qui tollis pecatta mundi dona eis requiem Agnus Dei qui tollispeccata mundi dona eis requiem sempitername !

Called forth from slumbers deep and cast into the ocean of form was he. Shaped andreformed over the millennia to best reflect the immanence of thy eternal presence.His mind but thy reflection in remembrance. His heart but the attraction that is thyrapture and his body but the crystallisation that is thy becoming. Masquesconceived and worn in thy service and finally dissolved by thy presence.

An ocean of tears did he weep in thy name and of this ocean did he form the visionthat is thy essence. Soaring upon pinions of liquid light did he scale the ramparts ofthe fabled city and enter the precincts that serve as thy shrine and upon its altar didhe lay his weary form and of the matter that informed him did thee weave thy spellsand with incantations did thee cypher his body in light and now that body dancesupon aethyrs vibrating with thy presence.

Pluck the strings that form thy web and send forth the song of songs that resides inthe liquid stillness of thine heart. May this song bear witness to the lamb bathed inits own blood. Drowned in its own breath and buried in its own flesh and may this

one rise, cast aside the iron shackles of servitude and embrace the bounty that is thyabundance.

And upon the void is the vision cast and the lamb ascends in a body of light to enterpeace eternal.

! !


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! !IX

Lux AeternaePrincipia Lucis Solus Noir

!Lux aeterna luceat eis Domine cum sanctis tuis in aeternum quia pius es!

Konx Om Pax. The rays of Solus Noir anoints the holy ones and its lighttransforms and consumes all in its name and in the book of life is etched theaxiomata that calls it forth from the abstract into the concrete and the cycle iscompleted. Eternal light falls like rain and raises the heart unto rapture and grantseternal rest to the weary. Benediction falls like a mantle of ease that erases travail.Soothes wounds deeply etched into memory, dissolves flesh by its touch and rendersform into shadow that is bleached from memory and cast into the cauldron ofmystery to be no more.

And in the hearts and minds of all that has been, is and that is yet to be, the eternalsong echoes and of its notes do the angelus create the beauty that is the birthright ofall that dream beneath the marbled vault of the palace of exiles.

Bathed in Lux Aeturnae be they who dream and in the dreaming manifest upon theshores of midnight the elixir that incarnates the spirit that transforms matter andraises it unto splendour. Lux Aeterna, Lux Terra Infirma, the bride rises from herbed, clasps an outstretched hand and steps forth complete. Sic Transit Gloria Rosa

Mundi, may thy perfume rise as a prayer celebrating the consummation and as thechymical marriage is completed a veil of silence descends and that which is revealedreturns to the depths of mystery and that which is concealed rises forth from thewaves of dissolution and shines upon the mirror of thy memory and celebrates LuxAeternae.

And thus is completed Requiem CXXXI missa pro defunctis

! !


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Amor Vincit Omnia


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Naamah

Hymn To The Beloved

Golden thread around heart entwined. Visage of palest gold bleached by blood.

Darkest barb venom sweet. Vision of light shadowed by blood moon.Step by step the pageant unfolds. Embrace, melt into rapture. Dissolve into blissdenied.

Pale golden one a kiss upon thy brow. A caress upon breast of softest silk.Entwine limbs slick with sweat. Heat dissolves flesh. Breath dissolves thought.Passion dissolves the heart. Union dissolves life.

Blood flows from wounds deep as time.Semen rises caught in a cup of softest velvet between golden thighs.Breath quickens and dissolves in rapture sweet.Breath stills in the velvet shroud of darkest midnight.Cascading thought tumbles into oblivion, servant of time.Naamah golden one mistress of time servant of none.

Shapes born of desire replace the tapestry of life. Life bows to death her master.Through silven forests does she dance beneath pale Hecate.Loose thy arrows desolate one pierce flesh spent in passion.Golden nectar flows through limbs broken.Darkest venom courses through veins burned upon thy pyreOne kiss granted benediction. One kiss denied eternal longing.

Reflection dark shadows arise, a mist of amber stained blood red.Lightning burns eyes long weary. Thunder subdues heart quenched in fire.Gaze deep into the mirror of thy mind. Draw deeply from the well of thy heart.

Broken vessel leaking blood into sand unheeding.Once a garden pure where innocence was born. Leaf and stem embraced in love.Once an earth mother to her children. Cradled in loving arms.Once starlight dissolved the vacuum of space.A thousand angels voices arched in ecstasy. Once life pierced the veil of time.The tapestry woven thread by thread

Across the mountains of the moon did we walk my love and i.

Taking our rest within the vale of Aphrodite. Into the boundary lands did we step.Upon a plain of golden sand the bones of all who went before.


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Beneath our sun we walk ebon rays shining forth. Dissolving all that has been andwill be.

Creation unmade upon the plain of truth unfolding

Namrael fairest maiden. Samael desolate one.Hand in hand each step a drop of blood released upon the aethyrs.And in the last of days two grigori walk upon the earth and they shall die.

!Yglas Naamah !

!Yglas Isheth !

!Yglas Ygrat !

! Yglas Lilitu Ben Grigori !

! Evohe !Evohe ! Evohe !

! Ast Innui Khephri Vos !

!Ahdi Ypres Grigori !

! Selim Ast Nobilis !

!Khephren Ma Un Nefer Ast !

! Portus Lucis Noir ! Ave !


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! !

! !


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Liber AnantaLiber HHH

sub figura SSS

The Firesnake Working

131 " ""


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The Serpents Kiss

In solitude is the ocean churned.Barren waste, turned fertile at her passing.

But one kiss imparted and the world is turned.

Coiled serpent thou art beauteous in thy rising.Piercing the veil of dark Maras domain.

Bathed in nectar sweet, art thy lover.Who but for one kiss, one embrace,

Would leave this wasteland of times passing.

Thou risest unto the realm of matter.

Infinite coils of raptures passing, pierced by thy ecstasy.

Yet still thou risest unto the palace of the sun, thy handmaiden.Beauty in the trance that enraptures thee.

The void but spins, coalesces into myriad forms of resplendent being.

Thou risest yet, unto the dwelling place of natures heart.Cast adrift upon the secrets of thy longing.

A heart emptied, yet filled by thy ecstasies.

Unto the palace of knowledge, yet still thou risest.Casting off form and entering the bliss, which art thy being.

Thy handmaidens attend thee as from the void,dost thou rise resplendent in thy glory.

Yet further art thy coils to rise, entering the palace of thy being.Caught up in thy embrace, an eternity passing in but a moment.

now am I passed, now am I no more as onward thou coursest.I but a shimmering scale upon thy body.

An echo of thy passing.Standing before the gateway of eternity.

Breath, Mind and Body dissolved in thy presence.But for one kiss, one embrace wouldst I die.


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The Singularity Termed I

Reality, that which underlies appearances, such a vexingconcept, given the nature of our minds. Do we even somuch as approach the borders of this co existent state?

So easy according to some, and yet we simplysuperimpose our models of meaning upon the void.

Let us, initially, examine some basics and present aworking hypothesis. First a simple question. What is thenature of the mind? Here we fail at step one, were we toindulge in the myriad speculations on offer. Forsimplicities sake I shall opt for a relatively fixedviewpoint. Mind by its nature, in the singular sense of

I, is far less extensive as might be proposed. Itsappearance of range simply arises out of the nature ofreality, with which it interacts/co exists.

We have a variable field of impressions interacting withvariable instruments of perception. Out of this hybridwe graft the nature of a truth upon the perceived. Thisarbitrary function is crucial for us to survive as humanbeings. Let us for a moment consider the dawn of our

time, conscious apprehension/self consciousness andother such higher faculties. At their germinal stage,nature red in tooth and claw. Questions asked, answers,out of necessity arising. Rather than answers I wouldposit erstwhile solutions. However slow to evolve ourcompound error in the first instance sits with us in thehere and now.

The mind in its concrete aspect holds reality hostage with the declaration name meand I am yours. Such a simple act, the appearance of understanding. Perhaps aminuscule error then. Now, millennia later of abyss like proportions. How do werectify this compound error? Put simply we cannot. Our mutation is all butcomplete, we can but mutate further. Some call this evolution.

All major systems of belief posit an original chaos/void/emptiness out of whichemerged collectives referred to then as gods or goddesses. Modern parlance wouldrefer to archetypes. The terms, though different in appearance are in fact identical.

Even the least sophisticated of mentations concludes that the only thing to emergefrom the primordial chaos was the mind itself. Namely, the namer of things. Orderupon chaos, the word cast forth upon the void. Such a simple view when we consider


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Man created god in its own imageand then commits the supreme blasphemy of denying its existence.

Some might think, merely a clever play on words? That is how involved we arewithin our own system of perception and relation. In truth, the chaos never ceasedto exist, we as sentient beings simply impose order out of dire necessity. The

singularity herein arises.

Why the need? That question can never be answered and we must address far moremundane considerations.

So, who are we, what are we and where are we? Thee intrinsic questions, banal ineffect but essential to what is in essence a rational species [ ? ] The convolutionswhich have arisen given these simple questions are far more complex than we would,at first, imagine. In truth they are as convoluted as the very structure we employ to

apprehend them, namely the mind. Can the eye [ I ] be turned upon itself? Again animponderable. So, how, yet again, do we wrestle with the beast? We dont. curiositymust, will, always exist. For this reason we exist. Otherwise we would have nopurpose as far as our intellectual faculties are concerned.

Some consider thought to be a disease of consciousness. Nice and neat as anequation but it implies impurities within an absolute state. Our god/dess falls froma lofty height. These words are themselves simply the reflections of the convolutedprocess I have attempted to describe. Quite intentionally, I add.

Honeyed words have indeed been delivered down the ages. They serve to clarify, tobring knowledge and understanding. Perhaps some do? In the main they gain thereoriginators personal power. It is, after all a world of commodities and what greaterneed is there for peace and its progeny. I call it illusion, the product of slavementality. If you have pain, savour it, for by it, you at least know you are alive. Ananodyne can work, sometimes for the duration, but where does this lead you?Blissfully ignorant, whilst knowing all things.

If it travels through a human mind, be cautious, be discriminating. Where does thatleave you and with what? I would answer, everywhere with everything. Theanswers that are sought are indeed fallacies. Erstwhile parking space for insecurityand fear. Necessary, I grant, but our evolution demands much more of us. So let usreturn to basics.

To The Singularity Termed I, the mind its mirror, though dimensional inappearance, [its reflective quality ] is in truth, quite flat. It is all but twodimensional until such a time that it interacts with phenomena, be this internal or

external. This interaction triggers a response from what I would term motiveenergy. This interaction in turn creates within our minds the concept of thespace/time continuum. The result consensus reality. Though down the ages our


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numbers can be measured in the billions, who or what has shaped our thoughts, ouractions, our very lives? Comparatively few. This again, is the nature of slavementality. Consider the opinions we hold. Are they truly ours, or something cobbledtogether from elsewhere? We argue points without examining the matter at groundzero. When we encounter passion of the mind, originality, innovativeness, we are

threatened. This is herd mentality.Because we appear to extend our minds into the abstract we are comforted by thenotion that I, at least, am awake. Gross egoism, all but impossible to escape. Wework within closed systems at present and simply, most of the time, experience ourown feedback. Where is the objectivity? Again, I say non existent. The alchemists ofold penned many useful axioms. One I value states

Explain that which is mysterious, by that which is more so.

Mystery mongering? Perhaps? However, seek not answers but pose instead deeperquestions would be my interpretation.

So where does all this leave us? Where does this leave you? Confounded, I dare say.Again, intentional, as it is the natural internal state of The Singularity Termed I.Our only resort is to much deeper and wider ranges of perception and access to theinstrumentation thus evolved through the process. Yes, evolution again. Modelsabound, consider one

We enter a room [ furnish it as you wish ] on one surface is a window. We go over tothat window. It presents a view, a vision of the void, all that exists beyond us. Theunconscious if you wish. We take this to be personal property. We even employ theterm personal unconscious. In truth, we exist in a far freer state, for at the sametime every sentient lifeform on Earth looks out of the same window, upon a similarview. In short, a collective reality is all that exists. Personalised, in the main bysuperficial personal preferences.

The Singularity Termed I does not exist other than for purposes of convenience.

This in no way challenges individual life, quite the contrary, as it poses a deeper andricher dimension and perhaps intimations of our next step/s as a race. Many wouldargue upon this point but then again, many argue anyway. If I have served theirpurpose, so be it.

It was once remarked that

Reasonable people mould themselves to the world view.Unreasonable people mould the world unto themselves.

Therefore, all change results from the actions of unreasonable people.I rest my case.


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The Concept Of The Collective

So again, who are we? What are we? And where are we?Earlier I argued for, and in part, against TheSingularity Termed I and appeared to deny personal

importance allotted to the individual. Quite thecontrary, I imply, just how wide are our filters uponexperience? We might liken ourselves to existing in thesingular state solely to act as a lens/filter/reflectionupon the totality.

So as a filter, how limited, or extensive is our worldview, our appreciation of reality? Down the ages theindividual has been held in thrall, for good purpose.

Consider the state of the few with the will to powerbeing forced to deal with a planet wide escalation inconsciousness and the personal liberation attendingthis. In short they would be out of a job. Whenspeaking upon enlightenment the Buddha simply stated

It is not to be sought after but realised

As such we live in this state without knowing it. How?

Why? Simple ignorance. Not a condition we possess inour original pristine nature but one conditioned into usby the world we enter. This point is proven by the veryfew who by Grace or simple determination break free ofthe thrall.

Perhaps they are abberants, anachronisms? Perhapsthey travel down the corridors from some future time?The point is, they have existed, will continue to exist

and their message is singular. Unfortunately their message becomes enmeshed bydogma, becoming part of the mechanism they would, by their own natures, banishfrom our world. This is the nature of the world, of inertia. Inertia itself, apparentlypassive, all but abstract is in effect dynamic. It takes our will, our appearance ofdynamism and choice and renders it void.

Revolution both politically and philosophically, being the stalking ground of theyoung, for they have the energy, the impetus, the freshness and desire for change.They could all but turn the world inside out, upside down. I ask you, where do theygo? Where do you go? No criticism is here intended. I do not exclude myself at anypoint from these observations.


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We create relative collectives. We argue a viewpoint. Convince others. Developthrough the resistance, perhaps, encountered and from this evolve belief systems.These we reflect into all known contexts, given personal predilections, and this webrandish as truth.

Only the strongest of swimmers may enter the deepest of oceans, and survive.

Many have by intent or accident been cast into such. Many have suffereddisintegration. Many have partial views. Few have completion. Why is this so?Perhaps a model will suffice many come to the Arte with ill formed motivations,seeking excitement and the exotic. Seeking is the primary impetus. More perceptivesouls seek a sense of unity, of integration. In short, all come for a reason. Somethingto be gained. Lust of result. We face our own and the collective inertia and as suchinvariably simply travel the convolutions of our own minds. Closed systems indeed.Others enter the abyss and return. They themselves rarely know this. They arealtered beyond recognition and yet their words, are again singular.

If you can conceive of any possibility within the mindthen that is already, in part, an aspect of your experience

True, initiatory experience lies, at all times, beyond the ability of the imagination toconceive of, yet alone experience. For it to be otherwise simply reflects theshallowness of our experience and its attendant understanding. The singularity,partially developed, partially perfected exists solely to fulfil one singular act to

enter the collective, its true state. Reality. At the level of that which can bedemonstrated it might be argued by psychologists, therapists or other altruisticminds that the argument falls short. Of course it does. How could it not? Theproposition is simple

That which is unconscious in the individual is conscious within the collective

As such I posit no personal unconscious other than what is not in awareness at anygiven point in time. Why then, the therapist argues is there such a release of

personal power when a neurosis is released? I argue the point that this energy arisesout of the collective. Hence its power to change that which the will and its ministersare stunned into silence by.

In our ignorance and vanity we take a small portion of our minds potential anddescribe with it all the elements of the wondrous mystery, which we are, and thatsurrounds us. In truth we talk into the corner of a very large, dark room. Such is ourneed for personal security. Again arises the collective, true non differentiation. Asall individuals fear death, one way or another [ the advent of religion and philosophy

indicate this. ] likewise entrance into the collective is representative of personalannihilation. Now you might begin to sense the original compounded error alluded toin the opening chapter?


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Consciousness The Collective State

The Singularity Termed I in approaching the collectiveaccesses and is accessed by the potential, now raised tothe kinetic of crossing the threshold of our window, to

use an example of earlier. And here our view changesradically as we permit traffic to flow in both directions.Here man has trod many times.

In the guise of fiction many writers have proposed theexistence of others dwelling in other dimensions.Sometimes between dimensions. Numerous mythologieshave been constructed which simply mirror previouscreations. Names are changed, perceptions refined, but

at heart much remains as once was. One underlyingmotif that stands out is that of the primordial. Thechaos that existed prior to the development/emergence ofgod/dess. The emergence of these entities I posit wasand is the development of reason. The development ofmind in its self conscious stage. In short, TheSingularity Termed I.

The mighty titans, the old ones, all primordial entities

were effectively locked away, banished by the evolutionof the god/desses. The realm of reason came into being.However, you cannot effectively destroy anything, allthat was achieved was the suppression of thesevitalising energies. Considering this we are presentedwith a dichotomy. On the one hand we posit theexistence of forces, which by their nature appearinimical to the human life wave. To invoke such powers,

were it to be possible, would appear counter productive. The nightside energies mustof necessity be handled carefully if we are to survive the encounter at a level ofreason. On the other hand the principles of magickal/mystickal activity posit anentering into elevated states of consciousness. Take the practice of yoga, as anexample. It speaks of union with deity. A condition of death to the world and all itrepresents. Personal suicide is as valid an interpretation. And yet such riches areapparently on offer. These pursuits contrary to the earlier proposition appear lifeenhancing, both at the level of the personal and the collective.

What is the difference, in essence between them? In truth, none, other than theperspective they accord. It shows yet another of our tendencies towards dualismwhen we speak of a totality principle. It is true we open the gates of our own heaven


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and hell, but in effect our perception changes all considerations. Can this occur atthe level of The Singularity? Perhaps it can, even though in doing so we yet againdistinguish, and in doing so amplify, yet again our dualism.

The Host Environment

Like an exotic fruit The Singularity Termed I isaccessed by the collective. In normal consciousness, thecollective, like some miasma through which we moveand have our being is selective. Not that selection isinvolved at the active level. The process is passive ineffect. Out of an individuals persona, complete with its

nature, tendencies, characteristics arise. Hence thespecialisation that occurs within an individual. It mightbe likened to the idea that as a collective entity,mankind falls into a series of collectives. As there is aseries of conscious centres within the subtle body ofman, [ singular ] so might it be said that the sameapplies at the level of man [ collective. ] We might saythat the collective endeavour of so called types, be theyscientists, philosophers, healers, artists etc. may be

likened to the existence of a collective centre inoperation.

Out of this arises the concept of The HostEnvironment. Plant hate in fertile soil and it developsinto the monster we know it to be. Should it fall into ahostile environment it cannot, will not develop. In thissense our pursuits of altering, through practices and

pursuits our base consciousness might be seen asconscious manipulation of our environment [ bothinternal and external. ] Altering as a result the ph.balance of our chemistry.

The Host Environment has another further reachingfunction within the economy of the individual. If we accept the earlier proposition ofthe mind as a mirror. Reflective but narrow in perspective, existing as an atom in asea of the collective, then an interesting notion arises. What gives rise to character,

emotion, moods etc? What do we feel? Why do we feel it in a way singular to us.Why are patterns established? Many questions arise. Many of which have nosolution.


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Were we to accept the collective as the only reality and all else its reflection, asappearance, then we deal with a phenomenal construction. Consider a vast collectivemind. Consciousness itself aspected as a primordial state. Existent as is the air webreathe. This energy diffuses throughout us, for it exists and functions at subatomic levels. Our bodies and minds are bathed in its presence continually. Our

filters, perceptually speaking and our mirror alone serve as1.The means of stabilising within constant flux.2.The result being, the arising of individual characteristics.It is my contention that given this, all energy is neutral at source. When in itsprimordial state it is non differentiated and as such characterless. Quality existselsewhere. As we are awash with the tides that bind us, this motive energy risesthrough strata, whereupon it eventually fuses with characteristics and is given

definition. This occurs at the level of emotion and thought, which are ofteninseparable. As a result we are swept along by a rip tide of the named state, be itone of pleasure or pain.

This reality exists not only sub atomically but also biochemically and in this respectthere is no fundamental difference. We appear to operate through choices but attimes appear powerless to deal with what must be considered to be transcendental.It shapes our minds, our lives, our worlds. If we had the ability to accept this energyas neutral, then all states, however judged, could be turned to our advantage.

The importance of understanding the nature of the collective, in the various ways ithas been presented is singular and far reaching. The key to knowledge and theattainment of freedom lies in this direction. Nothing new here. This concept lies atthe heart of all serious cognitive evolution, prefigured as science, philosophy andreligion, in its true reflections. Platitudes have sprung from the lips of mankind formillennia. It appears sufficient to conceive of a view, argue in its favour, developtheorem of multi faceted aspects, gain corroboration, through the belief of others andas such, enter complacency. This process is referred to the intelligence trap by DeBono and takes into account much which is to be considered as intellectual pursuit. Iask but one question :

Does what you do change your life?

As previously mentioned, initiation for it to be valid exists, at all times, outside theability of our system to conceive of the possibility. This does not reduce theimportance of the imagination and our ability to conceptualise, but simply putsthem in perspective.

All this activity takes place within The Singularity Termed I. In this instancefigured as The Host Environment. What supports this are the cycles of experience.


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Our filters categorise infinite energy into narrow channels and this alone gives riseto every conceivable problem we experience at both the individual and collectivelevels. Again, in the words of the Buddha ignorance.

In order for The Host Environment to expand into its singularity and as a resultconceive of its next step various individual and complex processes must be

undergone. This is personal alkhemy in its true sense. All else is a sham. And yet thesham protects us. Likewise, self perceived limitations are valid mechanisms. Thefriends we trial ourselves against in order to evolve. Our first endeavour, in thisrespect must be self knowledge, at the level of the individual. The tools at ourdisposal, our friends. Our apparent foes, where we consolidate, where we undoourselves. In short, again, self knowledge. Perhaps then, we can move on.

The alternative. We simply run around a maze, a maze represented as our ownminds. We do not seek to explore the archaic but build at the level of neurophysiology the very equipment which will initiate the process of expanding thesingularity into the collective. With this in mind, all activity, one way or another,gives rise to this process.


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Modes Of Consciousness

The Objective And Subjective Argument

The immediate question that arises when addressing

this most troublesome of topics is simply where liesobjectivity? As all information/experience is processedthrough our sensory filters and thence through ourneurology it makes the concept of objective all but nulland void. To take the instance of optical neurologyalone proves this point adequately. Rods and cones uponthe surface of the eyes respond to stimulus. They fireas it were. Were they not to be in constant motion,objects, having saturated the rods and cones wouldsimply disappear in the way that you becomeaccustomed to a smell, so that it all but leavesconsciousness after a time.

Via the optical sensors the information is processed byoptical fibres, reduced in number, which itself impliesdeletion of information. By the time the image isassembled upon the visual cortex of the brain, the filters,

which are personal to each of us, have created what weknow to be the object. This we fire back into the world.In short what we perceive has more reality within ourown brain than elsewhere.

Again I ask, where the objectivity?

This may lean somewhat towards psychology and neurophysiology, if so at the end of the day, it is ourinformation gathering apparatus. One of the modelspresented earlier, was that of the closed system this, in

part, aids us in our understanding of the subjective nature of our perceptions.Whilst we have an infinite amount of information which is variable and rich ininterpretation, our filters [ senses ] are, by contrast, due to habit and predilection,narrow and shallow.

My argument is simple outside of very evolved strata of mentation we simply fallprey to our own processing. It is all we have. We cannot, must not, deny it. And yet,

we must also, of necessity, recognise this as an integral and structuring elementwithin The Singularity Termed I.


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The various models we utilise to discuss and describe phenomena [ already two stepsremoved ] via experience / interpretation and description / language, are myriad.

At the level of physics, the atomic and sub atomic stratum, where the object, wherethe perceiver? At the level of, so called, normal consciousness, where am I, where isthe bus?

Each model, each strata, calls for its own solution. Again do not confuse the planes,for to continue the metaphor, you and the bus are one. Yet applying this principle onanother strata, if you stand in the way of the bus, it will kill you.

As such the objective/subjective argument is endless, circuitous and as a result leadsnowhere in itself. That is whilst we operate within closed systems. A point raisedon other occasions. What is this? Simple we have taken a small functioning unitwithin our brain/mind and with it, subjected infinity to our scrutiny. The sublime

being contemplated by the ridiculous. In our arrogance we prescribe truth, yet intruth, we simply draw maps which rarely, if ever, represent the landscape wedescribe.

A closed system has no other option than to function in this way. That is ourgreatest limitation, and yet remains our greatest asset, for with it we may evolveinto dimensions of understanding. Stimulated, in part. By our curiosity and spurredon, in part, by our ignorance. The world will ever remain, much richer that we willever suspect. Whilst we live our subjective lives we cannot experience it in totality.

The open system by contrast can and does. Our endeavours, I trust steer us alongthis way. All that exists is consciousness, or so it is said. Perhaps [ ? ] we have itspolarity/duality principle in subjective/objective. No easy solutions, simply furtherreaching questions. Questions we have asked ourselves, and each other since thetime of our surfacing into, so called, consciousness. Questions we will continue toask, and I for one trust that not too many solutions arise to distract us. Therein liescomplacency. Something already prevalent within our mental landscapes.

Banish this. Open your hearts and minds to mystery and live.


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Appendix


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Gateway Technology A Viewpoint

With this, the final chapter, I come to the central motifof this essay, in respect of both, my magickal pursuitsand most importantly the results of my last two

workings. Namely, Astarte and The Firesnake. Aspecific series of experiences undergone during theperiod of time covered by Astarte, have now, throughThe Firesnake become structured and as such cohesive.

During the former working it was my consideredopinion that an initial step was taken in a specificdirection, namely, transmundane entities/realities.Accessed by the portal of Daath. A part of this

experience was connection to a power source of aprimordial nature. A power source capable ofprofoundly affecting the fabric of this dimension. Andalong with it the distinct knowledge that, to use amodel, the three dimensions of this plane were renderedas two and into this plastic medium, anenergy/presence impressed itself.

The initial experience occurred whilst in an hypnogogic

state, but continued into a fully wakened state. It wasbut a fore taste, one which now guides my steps andactions. As a result of this experience I find myselfaligning more specifically to the Typhonian elements ofthe current, namely, trafficking with wider and deeperranges of consciousness.

A model, of sorts arose. As an operator I began workingin triangles. Primarily to embody the invoked elements.[ the triangle of arte being a receptacle for such ] After some time and considerationthis evolved. The triangle itself as a medium of manifestation is too well establishedto merit further consideration. It becomes of interest, however, when we consider aworking to become an angle of the triangle itself. Three in total, therebyformulating a triangle across time and space.

I sought three unique physiological states, encapsulated by the three workings inquestion. A sense that three unique individuals had performed the rites.


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Astarte in this respect granted The visionThe impetusThe theoryAn experiential basis

SSS grants The motive power

The energy to unlock, within consciousness, the technology involved within thisprocess.

The firesnake circulates the energy, the means becoming known to the operator inquestion. It is as if a space/time matrix aligns itself and utilising the correctformula, which is partial at this point, a gateway opens.

I have indulged in much speculation and have the theoretical basis for what it is Iam engaged within and upon. Much is clear, and yet, like all research that is inprocess, one has, at a given time, only a partial view. One speculation thatprompted much insight was simply one of technologies.

Upon the physical plane technology isolated the atom and through physicalintervention opened up, in part, its secrets. Secrets including

The infinitely small opens out into the infinitely large

A small aggregate of energy becomes vast in the light of this procedure

In short a physical technology for a physical aspect.

My interest took me into the other half of the polarity, to put it simply, namely,time. It was, and is my contention that [ to use a model ] the smallest element withintime is the moment. A mind equivalent of the atom, of matter. My question wassimple

In the same way that the physical atom was bombarded, and as a result, split,what would be the equivalent within the dimension of time?

Time being a product of mind I concluded that the technology itself would arisewithin the mind. This forms the basis of what I refer to as gateway technology.The model does, however, go further.

1.The smallest aggregate of matter the atom2.The smallest aggregate of time the moment3.The smallest aggregate of mind differenceA triangle forms, one which merits much consideration, hence my endeavours. Itwould be banal to assume the three workings allude to each of the above categories,for outside the circles of time things are not as they are here. We are simply, by the


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reducing valve called the conscious mind modelling that, which in truth, lies beyondit. Not the unknowable, simply the unknown.

It is my contention, and the principle underlying motivation within my particularwork, as constructed, that through The Singularity Termed I, functioning via itsHost Environment and in completion accessing, and being accessed by the collective,

we do indeed open gateways. These gateways, primarily in consciousness as an allimportant first step. It brings us to the portal of multi dimensional existence,wherein we play host to our past and future selves. As to actualisation within alldimensions, that awaits further and future evolutionary steps. In this respect webut see through a glass darkly. None the less these are foundation steps whichactivated at a solitary level [ the individual operator ] makes this experience/realityto all, through time.

The concept of gateways into otherness is not in itself unusual or original as it hasbeen a motif underlying much that can be called occult. The difference, I feel, is inthe matter of what planes you associate these concepts to. Again the theories andmodels are vast in number.

A further contention is that OTO itself serves as an assemblage point of theseconcepts/energies and eventually the technologies which will flesh them out. Variousaspects of this technology, in its theoretical aspect, have been touched upon withinthe pages of this essay. yet this is not sufficient, for if left upon this strata it simply

becomes pedestrian.The Firesnake itself is the motive power which takes theory and places it upon anexperiential basis or foundation. Evolutionary speaking it is the shift ofconsciousness from a, so called, mundane sphere, to one that might be called,transmundane. And yet we spend so much time, even in the light of this, scrabblingaway in darkness. We have the theory, the concepts, yet our neurology is illequipped to turn, so called fiction into, so called fact. In this respect gatewaytechnology serves as the interface. From what to what?

This is the element of research and discovery itself. In this instance I can but repeatmyself we are but compelled into the direction/s of our own innate tendencies,coupled with ability or inability determines, so called, success or failure. Such is ourstatus given that we exist on the edge, as it were.


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PallasLa Reine De La Nuit

A Vampyres Tale


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Part One

The Quickening

I

Though known by many, Pallas was her true name, for she,maiden and warrior was consort of Pan, her power to his form. InRoma, mighty bastion of empire basking upon the banks of theTiber she first drew breath and was worshipped as Amor.

Androgynous, her joy and service, sensuality and pleasure. In thisguise she slaked her voracious appetite upon the couplings thattook place amongst her devotees. Not for her the drinking ofmortal blood or the taking of life, her appetites were subtle, refined.She would dwell between the breaths of her devotees, her lovers,wrapped in the passion and the satiation of their desire. In thisway was her form sustained.

Time and history unfolded and the male god grew supreme and her devotees grewless in number, yet she continued drinking her fill wherever passion arose betweenmortals and beast alike. Androgynous and when finally possessed of form she wouldbe able to assume the form of either gender, enabling her to plant seed within thebody of a female, and to receive seed from the male, and yet she possessed nocorporeal form, as yet. For now, she was continuous and undivided in her energeticform.

How had she come into existence? The tales are many, part truth, part fable. In the

beginning life had stirred, risen and stretched heavenward on limbs that carried itforward across land and sea. The creator paused and took pride in its work, yet itknew no rest. How would its creatures know of its existence? How would they giveworship? For it was a vain and possessive god, given to pride, for it was young, thefirst of many hurled forth from the creeping chaos that had known no form. First toarise when the primal chaos was banished and the old ones cast aside. Order arose.The time of echoes. It had created a male, the only form it knew, and from this sortto create its mate. With the males blood and sperm and the life giving breath it

granted from itself, woman came to be, a being far more intelligent and able than hewho was deemed her lord and master. In her despair she escaped into the desert andtook her pleasure amongst the creatures that lived there, it is said that of her


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couplings arose the demons of the world. At this time she was known as Lilith,cursed by god yet supreme in her power. Time passed and humans spread across theglobe. Seeking new consorts she divided herself into many forms in order to continueand grow in strength and power, for she had purpose. It is in the guise of Pallasthat our story begins and now continues to unfold.

Her form, insubstantial, her pleasure harvested from the forms of life that hadsubstance. She formed a desire, perhaps her most ambitious? She would take humanform and know the sensations of blood, flesh, heat and sweat. Knowing that theypassed through life in a fleeting moment, she would await the time when the sea ofstars burnishing the night sky would alert her to the presence of the one she sought.

In this manner she would maintain her immortality and also know of earthlyexistence. She would choose well, for she had a plan, one which would unfold across

the millennia. Knowing no boundaries or restrictions, for she had denied the false godand all its workings, and knew freedom. She watched and waited, knowing her timewas near, when she would know the sanctuary of flesh.

II

A small world, significant only for its hydrogen and oxygenatmosphere, far out upon the edge of a spiral galaxy is where wenext visit, remembering that it is with the eyes and mind of Pallasthat we travel to this distant world of beauty and wonder. Host toa richness and diversity of life, almost unknown within thisquadrant of time and space. For this reason it was visited often,secretly, clandestinely, for its dominant species was known for itsferocity and unfriendliness to all that was not of its immediatekind.

Upon the shoreline of one of its land masses, a small fishing village,nestled upon the cliffs that overlooked the vast ocean. Its inhabitants simple, sturdyand possessed of an innate awareness of the seas moods and nature. And in thisvillage on a cold night of tempest, wind driven rain beating at fragile window anddoor, waves rising in anger as the continuous battle between land and sea turnedone more page of the volume of its encounters. Upon this night of roaring thunder,thunder like the stirrings of a cavern born dragon thrashing its tail in fury, the fire

of its breath creasing the sky with lightning, a child is born.


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Not unlike any other new born, its clarion cry announces to the firmament itsarrival and meets the tempest outside with that of its own. The father looks ondistractedly as the child raised in hands awash with its mothers blood wails anddemands and is only silenced when it grasps a nipple between gums and sucks, onlythen is it silent, drawing from its mother sustenance and comfort.

To say the child was unloved is untrue, yet the village was austere in its ways andbeliefs, most of its energy being spent in the act of survival, and another mouth tofeed was a challenge for the family and village alike, for this reason love was a dishserved rarely, and then, in modesty and moderation. It was customary upon thebirth of a child to grant it a birth name which would serve its early years, yearswhen it was in truth an extension of its parents and knew little of its self. Upon itssixth summer it was granted the right of choosing for itself its given name and onthis day it would be initiated into the village circle as an individual, and thereafter

called by its chosen name. The name she chose, for she was a girl child was Linden,in remembrance of the sweetness she had once tasted as the nectar of this blossomhad melted upon her tongue and created in her an awareness of the richness that herfuture life would hold.

As a child she was precocious, as are those with the gift of intelligence and insight,shunning her peers and spending more and more time upon the sea shore in idledreaming or roaming the hills in search of something new, something different, for

she yearned, even at the tender age of ten summers for something not present withinthe village.

Then one day she found what she thought was the answer to her roaming anddreams. Nestled in the side of a rock strewn sundered mountain, a cave and in it onewho lived in isolation and contemplation, all but unknown to the villagers andshunned by the few who knew of her. She was ancient, yet carried herself with ayouthfulness belying her years and from her eyes radiated energy and life. Linden

was made welcome and over the next eight summers of her life came to spend moreand more time with her new found friend. A friend who greeted her with a smileand an embrace, affection previously unknown to her.

Over the next eight summers Linden learned herbal lore, the simples which healedand those that sickened, the time of their harvest and the powers they carried. Shelearned of star lore, the shapes formed by the distant spheres of light, their namesand influences, their tides and cycles. She learned the lore of Lunar, her faces andmoods, how as chaste Artemis she hunted the souls of man, woman and child,

releasing her silven arrows into their hearts. How as Diana she brought purity andvision to the earth and how as dark Hecate she shone darkly and brought all to itsconclusion. She learned of the secret signs scripted in the earth, of the flight of birds


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and of the spirits of the animals. She learned the arts of healing and the art ofspellcraft. All this and more she learned over the eight summers of knowing thisancient and ambiguous woman, whom she grew to love deeply and completely.

Upon completion of the eighth summer and at the time of celebrating her eighteenth

year of life her friend and mentor passed away, disappearing as though in a dream,leaving her with the promise that they would meet again, for now she had the skillsand the way of joining her in the time and place before the echoes had begun, this shepromised, and with a final embrace, a kiss, was no more, yet her spirit wrappedLinden in warmth, love and protection.

IIILinden had grown into a beautiful woman, of slight stature, sheradiated a presence of grandeur and aloofness. Her bones finesheaved in flesh of honeyed amber. Having led a spartan life theflesh hung sparingly upon her, muscles firm and toned, feline,yielding to softness when relaxed. Her hands fine, palms long,fingers tapering to fine tips, power radiated from them and her

touch was known and remembered by those who had felt it. Herface of angular line, lips rich and sensuous above which a nosealmost that of a bird of prey. And of her eyes soft pools ofallurement and tenderness, honeyed brown in colour with

occasional sparks of green as her mood changed. This crowned by a mane of finesilver, almost white hair.

Many of the villagers sons sought her hand, for it was long passed the time of hercoupling. This she resisted, not that she was not curious, rather that the villagers

were clumsy and unrefined in their courtship of her. And yet she eventually yieldedto both her curiosity and instinct and upon the day of her nineteenth summer took ahusband, one of her choosing, one she deemed a little more intelligent than the rest, alittle more aware of the nature she possessed and she hoped that her time with himwould be more than a chore and a duty.

For three long years did she persevere, allowing the sacred sanctuary of her body tobe desecrated, used and finally abused. She suffered in silence, for he was not a bad

man and knew no other way of being. After three years her womb bore no fruit, achild with this one? She would not permit this to be, and in this way she remainedvirgin, complete and undivided.


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During her twenty third summer came the time of initiation. In dreams she met adark stranger who opened her to pleasure, pleasure she had not known in the world,he folded her in arms of protection and love, whispered dark secrets which seededthemselves within her soul and created a yearning and a need she knew no way ofsatisfying. Her days were spent in anticipation of the nights she would share with

her phantom lover. By day she continued to roam the hills and comb the sea shoreseeking the unexpected, continued her studies, yet her heart awaited the night whenwrapped in the arms of Hypnos she would meet the one she longed for. Her husbandgrew suspicious and angry at the rejection of his advances, especially when he wouldbe awoken by the sounds of gentle moans rising from her throat, would find herdrenched in sweat and on occasion awaken her. At these times she would take himwith a passion fierce and unquenchable, would mount him and in the delirium ofsleep ride him like a demon possessed and when finally satiated would fall back intosleep, forgetful of what had passed between them. He grew concerned for she had

grown pale and distant, often refusing food and when asked what ailed her he wouldreceive distracted answers. It was clear to him that much was wrong with hisbeloved, one who no longer appeared to want or need him. For two long summersthis continued and only ended when upon waking one autumn morning he found hergone, vanished. He searched the day long and into the night but found no sign of her,he sought her in her favourite places, upon the sea shore, no sign. Likewise the hills,empty of her presence. After a week of waiting and searching he resolved to searchfor her in the surrounding countryside and villages. Everywhere he went no sign of

her was found, no one had news of her passing. And finally with grief in his heart heresigned himself to his loss, returned to his life in the village and in his memory lefther as he now leaves this story.

And what of Linden?

The morning was bright, the sun risen but a moment before cast its rainbow huedsplendour through the prism of mist that retreated before it. The landscape a subtle

world of insubstantial forms, emerging momentarily and then again wreathed in ashroud of forgetfulness as though they would return to sleep and dreams. Such wasthe nature of the world on this morning. Linden leaves her home casting but oneglance back as a sign of silent good-byes, to her home, her life in the village and tothe one who had sought to hold her. Stepping forward she melts into the mist, nomore to be seen. Wrapped in a cloak of indigo and sheaved in a gown of crimsonvelvet, sturdy leather boots upon her feet, she draws the hood of her cloak over herhair and face and walks on as if shrouded by night. Over her shoulder a leathersatchel holds all she deems necessary for her journey, a flask of water, one of wine,

a parcel of dried meats, fruit and bread. Her treasured crystals of protection andhealing. A journal of her learnings and discoveries wrapped in midnight blue silk. Ahunting knife and compass, she carries into her new life.


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The first of many days unfolds into blue skies and warm sun. On the third rising ofthe sun her dwindling supplies of water and food alarm her, yet she continuesnorthward into the barren hills. Her steps unfaltering as if guided by an inner sense.On the fifth day she finally runs out of her supplies and begins to know hunger andthirst. Her faith intact she continues, no sign of game to hunt, the landscape bare of

plantlife, no sign of brook or river, only barrenness and desolation greet her wearyeyes. By night or when fatigued she falls to the ground, wrapping her cloak aroundher tightly, taking solace from its warmth. Three long days she walks without foodand water and begins to know despair. It strips her of memory, of hope and finallycasts her into a maelstrom of self pity and regret. And yet she is driven to continue,her steps faltering on the loose stones beneath her feet, causing her to slip onoccasion, crashing to the hard ground and groaning in pain as her skin is laceratedby sharpened flint and the fossilised sap of trees long dead.

Before her, can it be true, a mirage surely? a final torture heaped upon those alreadydeeply etched into her body and memory. She crawls on hands and knees into atunnel travelling downwards into the earth, barely enough room to contain her, shefeels the walls of the tunnel around her as though she is crawling into her own burialtomb and yet she feels a sense of promise. The tunnel opens upon a cavern, dimly litby outcroppings of sulphur, phosphorescent yellow and green bordering upon a poolof crystal clear water. Reaching its lichened border, she dips her face into its cooldepths and cupping her hands drinks of its effervescence, turns over onto her back,

loses consciousness and sleeps.

IV

Awakes to a whisper, a breath of breeze fanning her hair andplaying upon the surface of her exposed body causing the fine downthat covers her skin to tingle, and her flesh to awaken. Long has

been your journey, fairest Linden a voice of velvet tones, winerich in its depth causes her skin to ripple further, for she knows thisvoice and the one who now speaks to her from the shadows. Indreams were you seduced into the ways of pleasure, now etchedupon your flesh and soul are the sigils of power, invoked by lustand the carnal acts of our coupling. Rising, she surveys hersurroundings, a tent of silks, indigo, green and blue held upright by

posts of fine wrought silver. Divans of velvet, scarlet and midnight. Carpets spread

across sand beneath them. Upon the air the fragrance of sandalwood and muskarising wraith like from a censer in the middle of the tent. Before her a low table, afeast of dainty morsels upon its surface, a glass goblet carries a rich nectar of ruby


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wine. Eat, drink, my love for your journey has yet to begin and you must bestrong. Again that voice of seductive power caresses her senses, unseen, unknownyet present in the very air itself. Casually she eats, drinks, glancing into thedistance to the sand dunes capping the horizon, the shimmer of heat laden aircausing all she beholds to ripple in and out of sight.

I brought you through the desert of despair to purify your soul of the clay, tocleanse you of the trappings of life, of hope and aspiration. In your darkest midnightwhen you feared for your life, know that I was with you, protecting and awaitingyour arrival. For this is no place but a state of being. Linden began to understandher phantom lover, recognises the presence of him through her life, saw him in theglint of an eye possessed by the hawk she had befriended in the dim twilight of earlymemory. Recognised him in the serpent that had struck out with fangs bared one daywhilst roaming the hills, it did her no harm yet she carried its signature upon the

flesh of her thigh, a scar that throbbed during her time of the moon, turned scarlet asshe passed moons blood from her body. Remembered him in the presence of hermentor, she who had guided and protected, had taught and finally left her with apromise upon her lips. Remembered him in the passing of clouds across the pale faceof her mistress Artemis. Knew him to be her love, and for him she travels the barrenworld in search of completion. And in her remembrances comes the revelation of whoand what she is. Hush dark lord, she whispers, her voice a flute whereon she plays.Harken for the words are with me, the words of power and becoming, harken for I

speak with the voice of Circe my sister and lover.

The air stills, pregnant with the silence of the void, in the distance a single fluteplays its plaintive song upon the air. Invisible hands beat upon a drum, long deepnotes, hypnotic and alluring. She speaks the words of Invokation, her throat taut atthe uttering of the words, her body bathed in a nectar of sweat, her soul caught uponthe wings of vision.

Divided am I Not, by love, for love, the quest of union!The star for the snake. The lance for the grail. The wand for the cup.

Heart aflame, a burning ground of passion purple.Thy cup, awash with nectar sweet, a still river of loves consummation.

Flesh aflame, kindled and lambent in passions becoming!

An angel of lust wrapped between our breaths,

its lifeblood flowing into the ocean.

An ocean of remembrance, where upon foreign and exotic shores,


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again we tip the cup of loves fornications.Babalon rising between us.

In the distance the call of a solitary owl, bruises the silence with its call. The airturns dark, replete with shadow forms, binding, unbinding, flowing in liquid

movement. The air heavy with perfumes of sandal, rose and benzoin. Theinvokation continues.

Her breasts, golden suns, issue a stream of milk,the light of myriad worlds.

Her thighs, the eternal birthrites of galaxies.

Is she Not, divided for loves sake?

The chance of union, upon union, upon union.Nectar from the petals of her rose, a honeyed dew,

at which fountain does the hummingbird sing,quenching its thirst eternal.

Rise with me mighty Babalon, mother of saints, whore of mankind.The beast thou ridest, the names of myriad kingdoms.

Thy domain, eternal, infinite, undivided.

Shadows form into solids, assembling, forming, reforming. The air redolent with thevapours of oceanic depths and the vacuum of space. In the distance a storm stirs thenight with its turbulence. The howl of distant beasts, screams become whispers ofresignation. And at the still centre of this turbulence, the words of invokationcontinue. Linden now aglow in her power, her voice raised in rapture, her bodyvibrating to the words of power that arise and are flung out to the awaiting void,which broods and seethes in its birth pangs.

Unto thee I call, Passion the rite, flesh our invokation,the quest of love, of union our Intent.

I call upon the one undivided in thy name!I thy vessel, longing, awaiting.

With tears of blood I callest, heart emptied, voided in thy name.

Thy cup overflowing, mine yet a desert song,parched in loves name, in loves game.


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I of no name. I of no nature callest unto thee who art BabalonCome unto me, as I comest unto thee, in loves name.

In Nomine Babalon!

The invokation completed. Linden beholds before her eyes the form of Pallas.Radiant in a nimbus of light, a matrix of interlocking planes, shifting perspectives,past, present and future contained within her outline, focused at axis points by aseries of jewels beneath the surface of what appears to be skin. Her eyes, two whiteopals flashing sparks of rainbow brilliance, milky opalescence reaches out andtouches Linden, lightly yet firmly. At her throat a sapphire, clear and blue as thenoonday sky splashed with the radiance of a thousand suns. Her breasts twoemeralds, green as the richest of pastures, pulsing with the promise of naturesbounty. Her navel a diamond, its facets spiralling, forming images of the historys of

Linden and Pallas. Between her thighs the glow of a ruby, deep and rich in itscolour, oscillating from the clarity of scarlet to the depth of claret, unfolds images ofbirth and death. All this held in stability by two arcs formed within the palms of thehands and the soles of the feet, each containing a golden topaz, each forming a ringthat traverses the length of the form Linden now beholds.

The perfumes of musk and civet, sandalwood and rose, mixed with the ozone ofoceanic depths and the vacuum of space invades her senses. And upon the air,causing it to ripple before her eyes, the sound of a thousand voices uplifted inprayer, an ecstasy of sound which causes Linden to swoon at the majesty of itsbeauty, its intoxication. Linden sees before her the one she knew as her phantomlover, he who whispered to her under the cloak of night. Sees mighty Babalon astridethe beast of her dominion. Sees Pale Lilith, a smile upon her lips and blood upon herhands. Sees before her Pallas.

In a voice, not of speech, more the visceral sense of knowing, Pallas speaks,Welcome beauteous one, long have I awaited the time of your calling, for it was I

who called you forth, through the dim corridors of remembrance, that you would callunto me. Linden nods her assent, and what now fair sister, what would you haveof me? Stabilising her form, assuming an outline and with it the solidity of atomsdancing within a vortex, she answers. I would share your form to walk abroadamongst your kind in the flesh. Linden opens her heart and swift as lightningPallas enters her, melts into her form, reshapes the contours, creates prisms of theangularities, molds features, extends bones and finally comes to rest within the still,dark chambers of Lindens heart, where she lies at peace, at rest.

Linden awakes beside the pool, rises and catches a glimpse of her reflection upon itssurface, the image that greets her is different to how she knew herself to be. Awhisper upon the air, in time you will know me well, be at ease for we are united,


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one and undivided. Again she catches her reflection, naked, her body slim, tall,possessed of a sensuality defined by curves at hip, belly and breast. Feet ofalabaster, nails of toes blush pink, long sinuous legs rising to the soft curve ofthighs crowned by a triangle of copper gold silk. Belly, firm muscle rising to breastsupright, crowned by aureoles of milky opalescence. Shoulders broad, neck fine,

swanlike. Face oval, jaw tapering to a fine point. Lips full, sensuous stained a palepeach. Nose aquiline, meeting a brow high and broad, eyes rounded, radiating lightin waves of pastel hues, stung green at their heart. This crowned by a mane ofcopper gold hair. All this did Linden see and in the seeing was pleased.

V

For fifteen days and nights she wandered, sustaining herself on theair itself, discovering, to her delight that she was visible andinvisible to those around her at her choosing. She roamed the earthin her nakedness and only on the sixteenth day knew hunger andthirst, yet her bodys needs, could not be satiated by earthly food orfluid. For the previous fifteen days she had drunk the glory of hersurroundings, her senses sharpened, heari

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Solus Noir Journal 3