A bewildering shock. With an inestimable inner will, saw the light of this world thru the perennial mammal dust of our ancient forefathers.
That which by its own demiurgic and disastrous outer nature, as well as by the processes of eternal cosmic cycles was going toward an inevitable spiritual and physical catastrophe, had for but an moment in the sands of Time, been spliced majestically.
A god's hand had slipped on, the carnal glove of human mortality. But the gods are of an incombustible thing in their substance, and therefore cannot burn neither in Heaven nor in Hell.
A gravitational shock wave shivered, hit the outer surface of the earth. Reverberating across land and sea and ocean. Even unto the wild forests of the deepest darkness! Overturning the affairs of this world in that which they possessed as infamous and unclean in their secret intentions.
When the gods show how much mercy they have. It isn't by way of some priest clothed like a woman, that they send, because of compassion's sake, to their sons a pacific savior, but a warrior of obscure ascension, in modest garb, so as that no vain glorious man might suspect somewhere in some place obvious, his noble birth.
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A drop of awareness. The eye of an ancient warrior. The head dress and the visage of Great Kalki.
When a cyclical "humanity" of hyperborean descent falters, the inner earth shudders in dismay, desperately. And from the Skies they call on "the Holy Graft". And God sends His only son, amongst those who need him. Into their pur hearts!
This is without a doubt what the Kristian Esoteric Tradition is all about.
Because, as beautiful and intellectually superior as it is the aryan race, it languishes. It is stuck so horrendously into a moral quagmire of a mortal hearth of organic particules. Lost in a great dream of yesteryear, distraught and laden with sadness, quashed by its great celestial Spirit.
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| Je suis le paratonnerre de mon Peuple. |
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