...on another plane, in another residence. Throughout the inner back stage of the golden shining Sun. A blackness awaits me. In its regal depths a portal of darkness, across the platonic bodies and their mysterious mingling, my spiritual ancestors speak to me, they say :
Awake & dance, Child of God.
The hot blisters from the mortal skin, hot as hell
Falling on the Earth's retreating lap!
Awake & dance, ô Lovely Kindred!
Let the mongrel beasts keep their kind.
They'll inherit all that's destitute,
Because no innate beauty can withstand
For more than what's necessary to the sweet & honorable
The pitiful vulgarity they bring
Here where the World
Is only the Devil's seat & latrine!
Like a Green Ray, a lightning bolt breaking, yours & only yours, ride on Venus' loins. A Great Star made of the stuff of Pleromic Hearts.
Leave the bastards eat the crumbs that fall from Evil's dearth.
Your place is in a Viking's Palace, made of oak & ash & pines from the North. But in another sphere, where astral bodies cohabitate, congealing their Kristic sheaves, glorious like the Face of your Aryan God!
Each one a Black Sun, within which a Green Dragon has conquered moral & physical stupidity, and forgotten memories from the Sky invigorate the once lost Soul.
H.S.H.
