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UPDATE: 06-04-06

The class of messengers has been lost to time. Hermes, the Voodoun Orisha Eleggua, and His priests were one and the same. There was no question if a priest of the messenger god was or wasn't themselves a messenger of God. If you bore a message, and this message could have had no other source than God, then to the ancient mind you were automatically a priest. You, yourself, were the Hermes, the Ho-Tekton, the messenger of God. Of course, that all ended when the Roman Catholic religion imposed the interpretation of Satan as Lucifer, the messenger of morning, the planet Venus, whose pre-dawn rising was associated by the Hellenistic Romans with Prometheus, thief of fire from the Gods and giver of it to man. Now, even the torch-bearing statue of Liberty is associated (wrongly) with invita Minerval priestess Semiramis.

Now, priests are obvious pedofiles posing as conservatives or else maniacal fanatics, quaking with their own hot air. It is a terrifying world under Yahweh. But what did you expect? You have chosen to venerate Yahweh by His "Son," Jesus, and thereby have come to venerate, instead, the Sun itself, at the center of only our most local area of "outer" space. To you, the past 2000 years seems like a long time. This is dangerously retrograde to forward thinking. You must realise that, while according to terrestrial human culture, 2000 years may seem like a long time, according to the whole of recorded history, 2000 years is only 1/3rd the time elapsed since the "invention" of the alphabet and writing.

Now, it is everyone else moreso than the priests of God who belong to a class of gnostic messengers, and now it is everyone other than the priests who rightly comprise the class of priestly messengers of God. This is because now everyone knows the truth that the priests of today exist to deny: Jesus was not Catholic, a Roman Christian. Jesus was not Hebrew, although he was born a Palestinian Jew. His real "religion" was Gnosticism. That's right. He was the same religion as you and I. He had doubts as to whether or not "God" even existed. He was agnostic.

Like Jesus, I too am a gnostic. I, too, am a messenger scribe. I too believe that religion, that was, at the time of Jesus, a function of both Church and State, that has become, now, an invisible empire of prevalent beliefs, a blindfold of lies, is the very same Demiurge described in the Apocalypse of Revelation. I know that, with my heart, I can feel weight drawing inward toward the center of my soul, beneath my left breast, when I think of the horror that is our modern system of beliefs. The very "reality" defies my gorge. It is too absurd to believe: we are trapped here, in time, in the present, on this planet, in our native culture, bound even to sitting, standing or lying down so attached are we to this world. It is a burden on my being.

There is very little we can do to free our souls from the oppression heaped upon them by the invisible empire of beliefs over the past 6000 years, let alone to free our minds from the Roman Catholic Hell on Earth of the past 2000. They have come to weigh so heavily upon the hearts of those of us who would, were they so unhampered, rightly have led the way in our own evolutionary leaps that instead we are shunned and shamed as mutants. Do you think that fame, the distraction of wasting your own legacy, is not a shame? Even if given the spotlight of celebrity, we are forced to sacrifice all that made us feel so special as to desire it. Is the Grail made of Gold? Hath it not borne the Blood of the Saviour? Is not Time itself the Blood of God?

So, why does 2000 years seem like a long time? It is because it has been that long since our priests betrayed us to the devil: they traded our liberty for their rulership. Now, the priests exist only to convince us there is in any way any difference between our doubting their God and our believing in our own. If you are agnostic, then you are a gnostic. You have your own vision, your own belief in God. But you refuse to accept the definition imposed upon your own by any other. Our ancestors, rather than being allowed to evolve, have been burdened to the yoke of serving Jesus, or serving God, by obeying the guidances of His priests.

Hath the Pope no auhority? Not by Right, no moreso than I, no. Hath either of us the right to rule? Never. But it is by the encouragement by the clergy of the false belief that the One Must Rule the Many that a pontiff has been set upon the seat called "infallibility." I will not invoke divine right, but I will reject anyone else's.

Our class, the class of Gnostics, Seers, has become the True Class of Hermes. We are all the pupils of the Righteous Teacher, besides the ones that wish to become that Wicked Priest. We learn of the True Nature of God, and behold the divine beyond any empirical doubt. We share this all with one another, and it is only the followers of the Priestcraft now who would turn away.

Once we were few, now we are many. Once we were few, and before that we were only One. Pythagoras, priest of Thoth, was Hermes. He was the first Hermetic Seer, the first Gnostic. His was the secret identity of Socrates, teacher of Plato, teacher of Aristotle, teacher of Alexander, the first Emperor of the world. Pythagoras it was who introduced Solon to the mysteries of Egypt. These were the priests of Thoth, that is, of the Egyptian Hermes, messenger of God, rightly a scribe associated with Time. Pythagoras himself was raised among them. Long before Pope Gregory, the Hermeticists had lived monastically. Their small communities centred around wells in the Middle East, such as the Essene community on the coast of the (now) Dead Sea called Qumran. In Europe the Druids dowsed for underground river intersections as well, building sacred shrines that would eventually come to be replaced by monastaries.

What was held as secret and sacred in the time of the Egyptian Hermeticists, the so-attired Great White Brotherhood, was becoming common knowledge during the time of the Essene Gnostics. But it was then the Righteous Teacher and the Sons of the Light were betrayed by the Wicked Priest of the Sons of Darkness. Since that time, 2000 years ago, our minds have been bound within and confined by the belief that we must keep our knowledge a secret. However, just as during the time of Jesus, such knowledge as He preached was becoming increasingly well known and accepted, that is, the knowledge of Gnosticism, the religion of being agnostic, so, by now, 2000 years later, the majority of us have come to accept what they were only just then coming to know 2000 years before us now. The sciences we have developed, and the Democratic ideals of government (separation of Church and State), these are the heritage of the Hermeticists, the Gnostics, the visionary seers of 2000 years ago. Thus, now it is the few, the priests, who do not accept what the majority of us know: that is, the physical Nature of God.

We know the physical nature of God with our senses, but 2000 years ago they knew of the physical nature of God only through prophecy. They were separated from the source of their beliefs by as long a duration in time-space as modern Christians are from the life of the actual Christ. Only they were all looking forward. So, too, are we modern Gnostics looking forward, staring into the sun of the future, looking for answers. Only now we are the majority. Only the priestcraft would turn us all away. And they do try. They may be the minority, but so they teach minority rule. They may have fewer members, but their members are louder vocalists of their agenda than the masses of we skeptical gnostics.

2000 years ago, Christ foresaw our present world peace. For this is the sacred "secret" of the Gnostics: we are at peace while the Priests would tell us we are surrounded by war. We do not believe them. We understand all is surrounded by layers and levels at peace or at war with one another. The priests can kill our bodies, but they cannot do the one thing they promise. They cannot save our souls. They seek to enslave us by saying they can save us. But it is they alone who threaten us. And we are now more than they. We Save Our Own Souls. We Free Our Own Minds.

I have become the Christ of my own universe. Just as Jesus Before Me.

So, we see, Time Is Folded. Every 2000 years earth has lagged behind 1/12th in her entire orbit around our Sol, her sun. Just as there was once a person named Jesus, so too now is there my person, named Jon. I can look back at his times and His life, and see Him through the eyes of His contemporaries, and see his contemporaries through my own eyes. In every way that I can thus "remember" what it must have been like to be Him, looking backwards, when I do this, He Himself is reflected in me now, and so all that which was around Him in his time, is also around me within mine. He and I look also upon the times before Him, in our mutual past, with the same eyes. Through His point of view I can see the world (His past) as He saw it, and at the same time, I still see the world (Our past) as I see it. I see the overlapping of two worlds, His present, and Our past.

This is only one, small, form of Gnostic vision. This is the geometry of knowing Jesus. However, now, his followers are fools. Consider celebrities. So philanthropic. The masses consider them geniuses! They believe that those who are the subjects of news reports have in some sense mastered the game of money and public attention. And so, the masses entrust unto their celebrity class the honor of believing them their own, modern, strange, form of priest-craft. The priest-craft of culture. They are venerated by the masses as the direct representatives of their Gods, the archetypes, known to Gnostics as the Archons.

But consider this, are the celebrities the servants of the people? Do they portray those traits, truly archetypal, within us most worthy of cherishing, most perfect, most ideal and desireable, most sincere, most unique, most Holy? Do they uplift us, as a worthy priest-class would, and should? Are they not the fallen angels? When they should be the Knights protecting Democracy, they have become the royal jesters, performing on a psychic stage, divided by an abyss of time between viewing and original performance, spitting at the Praetorian aristocracy and instead hitting the Plebian groundlings. This is supposed to be the Dionysian world of Hermes, the theatre in which the Greeks, our twins in Democracy, venerated the Pantheon of all their Ideals. Instead now, played out on the cosmic stage, we have the sickest, the lowest, the basest, the most repugnant, the most undesirable, the most disheartening and foreboding of all portrayals of Human Nature.

Much less so are we encouraged to even invetigate any knowledge whatsoever of the divine. Instead, for us, it's nine-to-five every work-a-day in our so-called lives. We are given as the image of the divine, instead, the image of the bee hive. The pope is crowned with one, for example. This tradition dates back to ancient Egypt, when, for fashion, women wore scented wax head-dresses that then melted down over them in the heat. The symbol of the bee was chosen as the symbol of Napolean Bonapart's French empire, and it was made to resemble the so-called Fleur-de-lis of the deposed French aristocracy descended from Dagobert II.

The bee hive is believed, by speculative Free Masons, to be a symbol of the Demiurge. The Masons refer to the demiurge as "the drone in the hive of nature, a useless member of society, and unworthy of our protection as Masons." The bee in the bee hive is not an individual, has no thoughts and thus no mind of its own, and does not therefore exist as an individual entity, but only as a member of the collective consciousness of the hive, essentially an extension of the queen's consciousness from her egg-chambre, protected by drones, at the centre. The drones, or "useless members" are androgynous offsrping bred to serve only the queen. These drones are "useless" whenever separated from the queen, and therefore do not go outside of the hive. They, therefore, never exist as separate entities from the hive consciousness. They are organs of the hive itself. They have no right to exist except to serve the queen of their native hive. These "drones" of the "demiurge" are admitted to exist even by the most devout evangelical Catholic. They are called "demons." The Moslems call them "djinn" and the bedouin Arabs called them "genies." Some Gnostics wish to free the minds of the Priests, the "drones." However no true Gnostic doesn't want to see the need for a Priestcraft, separating God and man as it does, at last come to an end.

The story of Jesus Christ's betrayal by Judas is now commonly understood to be an allegory, invented by Roman Christians, for the betrayal of Julius Caesar by Brutus. The twelve apostles represent the twelve senators who betrayed and murdered Julius Caesar. The Roman Christian Empire is the empire of these twelve. The Empire of the so-called Apostles, the true betrayers of Jesus. It was not the Jews under the inept King Herod who were responsible for his betrayal. It was not the Romans under the indifferent Pontius Pilate. It was the apostles, his own friends, who gave him over and left him to his own fate. This is another minor Gnostic "mystery," now revealed and commonly accepted. However, if anyone ever attempts to focus on these myths, why they are believed by us all, why we all acknowledge and orient our opinions toward them, why even though they are fictions they are taught to us while young, and why we will probably teach our children the same things we learned without ever questioning along the way for more, and why if one ever stops to think and wonder why all these things, then they cannnot find any explanation! We are told lie upon lie, and the more of them the more we believe in the power of lying in general, until the biggest lie to come down the pike, then, we throw in with, and ride its coat-tails to "star"-dom.

This is believed to be "the way of things": to lie. The priests tell us the lies we tell our children. They tell us of jolly old "St. Nicholas," and of the "Easter bunny." The more we go along with these fairytales the more we are socially rewarded. But this happens without question. If we question, the more we question, and the more we find out the true answers for ourselves, the more we are punished. This is why most of life's more philosophical answers are "occluded," or rather, only hinted at in modern school books, while never being discussed openly and honestly in church. It is believed that, were it not for "secret societies," religion would have destroyed all fact from the surface of earth by now. This abomination of desolation they preach to us by the name "utopia" and "the Garden of Eden." Then, as we are about to correct them with our own gnostic insights on the matter, they contradict us by reprimanding us for desiring their version of Eden, which we never did. They, in this way, go about ignoring factual reality. It truly does wear out the spirit to have the soul sucked out and fed upon by the lies of the modern priestcraft.

Would a priest jump off a cliff if you commanded them to? They are not your humble servants, in the good company of the One True Lord. They are like the "insane" who deny all social customs and defy all social norms. Their every gesture fills us with awe, with wonder at: how can something so utterly evil and abominable to all that is good about existence not only even exist, but can also preach? It should be funny. If you seek to expose the secrets held by the priestcraft, to reveal them by gnosis, knowledge, and its application, magick, your fate will be death or worse: being put to the Question.

If you are willing to deny your beliefs and be "zapped" they promise you fame, immortality in the public consciousness, to be preserved as a historical artefact by replication via the media. They shine their spotlight in your eye, and, in reality, your brain is being buried alive. This is the real secret of the Holy Grail: if you show what you discover to the wrong authorities, they will send you to one of two living Hells. They put you to the Question: renounce reality and live as a celebrity for a lifetime, or retain your "belief" but remain dirt-poor for generation upon generation. If you refuse, they make a meal out of your mind anyway. If you accept, they might even reneg on their end. Their only law is Irony; it is all that pleases them.

I refuse them as friends and I refute their "divinely" natural right to any authority. They claim their churches embody the sacred geometry. Then why do they not teach us this? Why recite the mass in latin, when you do not offer to teach children this language from birth? Why do you maintain the myth of the miracles as beyond approach by any attempts to seek scientific evidence? Why do they shame us for desiring to make ourselves more perfect an image in the eye of Our Creator? Why to this day do they refute even evolution? Is it beyond their theosophy to accept our origins as a species are not due to "divine" intervention?

This is, of course, all now considered blasphemy. If I were to walk into a Catholic Church, the House of Our God, the Saviour and the Redeemer from All Sin, and utter the words, "Jesus was Gnostic," I would be politely asked to excuse myself from the premises and rapidly, by invitation or not, escorted out. This is the strength of prejudice: that it not only makes it impossible to talk about a thing, but it makes it impossible not to think about that thing. I, as a messenger, describe only what I see. I write it down, and you read it, and you see the same things the same ways or not. That's how it works. But it does not mean that I myself always agree with what I see. What I write about often scares me quite alot. For example, I have no real opinion about the Will or God, or the Morals and Dogma of Religion. However, under the invisible, psychic empire of the Christian church, I am forced to have an opinion one way or the other. When I say I am undecided, that I am agnostic, they automatically assume the more doubt I have, the more bound for Hell, and that, to Save me from Hell, they have to convince me to accept Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. If I refuse, they consider me an enemy of their beliefs. Rather than being left alone and allowed to form my own opinion on the True Nature of God, I, as all of us here in western civilisation for the past 2000 years, have been dictated to from the beginning to accept the dominant paradigm of the nature of God, and that, to reject this paradigm is tantamount to rejection of the True Nature of God.

My people, the ones who know who they are as they read these words, and I, who writes them, know that these words are worthless. They are a pile of so much rubbish, the masturbation of the mind. There is no point talking about God, because God is ineffable. What can be said at all if, by our flawed nature, we can say nothing about the divine for certain? Better to "sing a song in silence," than to chant a hymn aloud. Likewise, no good comes from getting angry about religion. It is simply one of those things my mother reminds me "you can't change." So why am I bothering to write and rant about religion now? Simple. I am not here. I have "stepped aside," so to speak, and am allowing a "higher" idealogy to speak through me. This is, in cause, all religion really is; or at least, all it takes to be a wicked priest: suspend your disbelief. Let the "Higher Power" move through you in complete submission to it, with unquestioning, blind obedience to remaining as distended to its penetration to your core as possible. Now you know the nature of the Wicked Priest. Once you have gotten your disbelief out of the way, then you are ready to throw yourself into mad or life-long devotion to believing in something you probably know more than most for a fact is fiction. And then, for you, fact is fiction.

The Truth is, I should not need to care about whether or not "God" exists. I should, if I choose to, be allowed to form my own opinions about this, or to choose to remain undecided, or even to want to continue having no opinion on it at all. There is no "right" answer for everyone. Everyone is different, like snowflakes, and yet we all bleed the same, like snowdrifts. I do not see why some things are even an issue. Not only are they so self-evident and obviously factually, naturally, real, that to deny them would be fatal to ones' sense of self-preservation and thus retrograde to individual survival, yet still those who deny factual, natural reality draw to death off each of us our essence for the preservation of the "greater good" of the group; that is, they exchange our souls for their alms, renting them back to us "until we meet again." This is the heresy. This is the blasphemy. Beside the slave-raping of our young minds by the institutions of religion, the petty frauds we endure under our politics and the lies of economists pale by comparison.

Religion is the she-beast of its own Apocalypse. The so-called "Whore of Babylon" is the New Rome, built to become a "New Atlantis," a "New Jerusalem." On seven hills she sits, and the angels bear a message, hidden beneath a secret sigil, for each. Levithan, the New Atlantis, rising from the water, and Leviathon, the pheonix from the grave of Gehenom, the New Jerusalem, are the church and state that both bow down before the same Master: the religion of Rome, Catholic Christianity. Regardless of whether you believe in the True Nature of God as ineffable or as physical, whether you accept the myth of the miracles or accept the moral parables as historical fiction, these are irrelevant before the undeniable fact: Religion is Evil. It is Faith that is Anti-Christ. It is belief itself that is Blind. The Madonna of all Lies.

Without Original Sin, there would be no doubt in the mind of man if God exists, and thus no need for religion to guide us back to reunion. However, if you renounce Original Sin then you doubt its veracity until you cannot find a relation to it besides absolution. If you forgive yourself of Original Sin, the Church loses its right to you. You were not the one responsible for the rebellion of the angels in Heaven. You were not the one who caused the rebel angels to fall. You were not the one yourself who was tempted by the serpent in the Garden to feed the forbidden fruit to your husband, nor are you the husband, deceived, who received it with trust and was betrayed. You never swallowed the poison of reality, the bitter taste of compromise lingering like a lump in your throat. You are forgiven of all that. This is not something the Church has the "divine" (or any other) right to sanction or suspend. This is a direct relationship between yourself and the divine behind all splendours, this is between you and God alone. If you believe you are forgiven, then God will make your wish true for you. But if you believe it is the Church that is the basis for your faith, that without the communion of its fellowship, and without the "salvation" by Jesus Christ, then you have ceased to exist on a one to one level relationship with God. You have chosen to hide your face from Him, and thus to admit to guilt for eating the apple and thus learning the difference between "Good" ignorance and "Bad" knowledge. If you blame Gnostics for the crucifixion of your Christ, then you will drink the blood of your saviour from the skull of your enemies.

If you yourself choose not to be forgiven for Original Sin, this is the only thing that makes you guilty of it. And the majority of everyone around you, we all disagree with your guiltiness and shame. Your reflection makes us look bad. We are the True Dionysians, who were never separated from our true love, the Apollonian. But when you cast your face aside, and when you sink down, and when, to be humble, you humiliate yourself like a bitch in heat, then we shall all conspire your death behind you. As you turn your face to each of us, the rest behind you who you do not see will be plotting how best to murder you. Like the sun turns its face with the zodiac, so, too, the apostles of Christ and the senators of Caesar. We are the moon blood you deny so that you can deprive us of our rightful place beneath the sun.

Only you can allow yourself to accept being forgiven for a Sin you yourself did not even commit. If you believe otherwise, you will be doomed to a Hell on Earth the likes of which no mortal eye has ever beheld. This Hell is simply being stuck in the here and now, being unable to be lifted up by your own Gnostic vision, and instead being left with a hole in your soul where your heart should be, a rift, an abyss, created by the elevation of your sense of self along with the suspension of your disbelief. You will be trapped in this crypt as the dirt of unwanted experiences will be lumped over you until you cannot even recognise yourself and then you will eat beliefs you disagree with. Your life will become an upside down moral hypocrisy out of your control, and your actions will place you out in public, commiting lecherous debaucheries you would like to not even commit in the privacy of fantasy. This is fame. Popularity. Evil. Death. It comes with the territory of rejecting the "dominant paradigm" but then finally "caving in." If you "play your cards right," remain confident and detached, watching disconnectedly as your body and soul are put to the shameful work of the drone of society, the yoked herd animal, food of the "Gods," then you will be allowed to appear to benefit in this false system of backwards lies. You will grow wealthier and wealthier. You will blow up out of control. But it will be far too late by then to be able to forgive yourself ever again. It will be too late for you to save your own soul. And when that Wicked Priest comes to you at your death bed to perform extreme unction, to offer one last benediction, one last groping chance at salvation, to save your soul before it might otherwise forever be cast into the flames among forgotten unrepentant sinners, the irony of the whole situation will collapse in on you like an implosion inside your eyes, and you will have the Gnostic Second Sight: you will be reborn into the Neter Realm, the Netherworld of the afterlife, the dream-state between heart and brain death, the momentary eternity of the freedom of our soul, at least, its return to a form of pure electromagnetic energy, before it reincarnates again. And when that Wicked Priest comes, that Messenger bringing the Law of Irony, and you tell him, "I am a Gnostic Seer," then he will send you to damnation, claiming you are the opposite of what you are; claiming to be Gnostic means to be guilty of having commited Original Sin.

If you find yourself innocent, according to the backwards logic of Catholicism, you must be found guilty by others. This is inverted thinking, indicative within the Christian faith relative to its sister faith, Gnosticism. Within Christianity, for example, exists a strong tendency toward belief in Satanism, or rather, a dichotmoy religion to the religion of Christiantiy. In reality, all the immorality Christians attribute to the religion of Satanism, the Christians themselves practise. They then blame Satanism, and tie their own sins to it as their scape-goat, professing themselves absolved of all guilt through redemption by Christ. Of course, the biblical Jesus would take one look at this moral hypocrisy and puke. Yet this is at the core essence of the Christian religion His miracles and crucifixion spawned.

Now, obviously belief in miracles is not natural. No one who, presently, embraces the natural sciences will admit to there being, within their field of domain, anything that defies rational explanation by science. In brief, there is, among consensus reality, no such thing as a miracle. There are, obviously, certain seeming exceptions to this rule, according to the different leaps made in technological or scientific progress, as well as certain naturally occuring, though unpredictable, coincidences. Therefore, we can say, from our gut reaction and confirmable by our rational sense, that the story of Christ's "miracles" is a fairytale. It is make-believe. So, why is it dogma? Why do any of us believe in it? Because we have been told this lie for 2000 years. It has been bored into our brains beside belief in "God," and the "Satanic" threat of Gnosticism.

Here is a "Satanic" belief, falsely attributed to Gnosticism: "The God of Judeao-Christianity is the Demiurge." This would seem to make sense from a Gnostic point of view, but only someone assuming that point of view who did not consider themselves a gnostic would come to this conclusion. Remember: belief in God, let alone in the "God" of Christianity being the Anti-Christ of its own religion, is exactly what a gnostic lacks. Agnostic means skeptical of the existence of any "God," not only that of Judeao-Christianity. To a true Gnostic it is just as suspicious how some Buddhists venerate Siddhartha as it is suspect how some Christians venerate Jesus. This is why Gnostics are considered "Satanists" by many Christians (particularly Catholics): we are falsely accused of blind faith in our religion's demiurge. To be a Gnostic means to doubt the validity of any form of "God" including the image of the demiurge. In other words, to be agnostic is to remain skeptical of the existence of "God," and to be suspicious of any who believe they can rightly define it.

Again, the Catholic Christians will tell you that Gnosticism is the "religion" of "Satanism." To be a gnostic is to lack belief at all. This absence of any form of certainty about the character of God is exactly the opposite of the anthropomorphic extrapolation of Christianity, however rather than allow Gnostics to remain naturally atheistic, Catholic Christianity posits as its own opposite not an absence altogether of characteristic deity, but the anthropomorphication of the very opposite, the inversion, of "good," which is, itself, only a single attribute of the ineffable personality of our divine creator, and then accuses Gnosticism of worshipping this.

Of course, this does not make the converse true: that, because Catholic Christianity misrepresents Gnosticism as "Satanism" does not mean that Gnosticism potrays Catholicism as "Satanism" either. Hence, it is not a Gnostic belief that "the Catholic Church is its own anti-Christ" because a Gnostic has no "beliefs."

This is why there is another popular misconception about Gnostics, that we "believe" in "knowledge." This is due to the false attribution to our True Tree of Life of an eleventh "non" emanation called "Daath" (meaning knowledge) and representing an abyss. This is due entirely to Aristotelian thinking being applied, by Christian Cabalists, to the Hebrew tradition of QBLH. According to Aristotle's interpretation of his master Plato's record of, in turn, his own master, Socrates' saying, "wisdom is knowing you know nothing," wisdom (one of the ten emanations) becomes associated with the trade craftsmen as "applied" knowledge. From thence, we have the standard confusion of God's "Wisdom" with Gnostic Revelation arising from the misconception that, in craft, wisdom follows from knowledge. Therefore, it is wrongly said the relationship between a Gnostic and knowledge (of facts) is the same as that between a Christian and faith (in Christ). Of course, we can see now how this is specious reasoning.

Now, of course, being able to see through the specious reasoning of this anti-Gnostic argument does not make us blindly believe in the universal applicability of logic, anymore, indeed, than it makes us "gnostic." As a gnostic, one does not blow all logic out of porportion in the same manner that a Catholic does their Christianity. For a gnostic, reasoning, rationale, etc. are a means to an end, but no more. The end goal is Truth, but we understand that Truth is greater than the sum of all facts. We venerate neither Reason nor Revelation alone, but maintain the golden ratio between them.

Another myth the Catholics started about Gnosticism was to associate it with Revelation. This myth began when the Book of the Apocalypse of Saint John of Patmos was cannonised by the Council of Nicea for inclusion in the latin vulgate of the bible. This work, the only one of its kind included, was considered borderline heretical from the beginning. Revelations, for the most part, were consigned by the early Catholic church fathers to the fires of the library at Alexandria along with the rest of the Apocarypha and Gnostic "pseudepigrapha." However that of John of Patmos was included. It is obvious by now the Catholics are capable of hersy against their own dogma, and commit regular errors of logic in the form of blatant moral hypocrisies. However, it is the case much more often than not that they do this to gain a tactical advantage at one point that will then benefit them later.

The tactical gain for them, in this case, was that, by considering the book of the Apocalypse, a conservative revelation, outright Gnostic, later they would be able to wrongly associate Gnostics with being false-prophets, or being decieved by their own feverish visions, etc. in effect, accusing all Gnostics of worshipping "hallucination" in the same sense a Catholic worships Christ. This is, of course, also not the case, however it has become a very prominent misconception about Gnosticism. By associating Gnosticism with the Revelation of St. John, Catholicism has relegated Gnosticism to the status of Bacchanalian covens performing a black sabbath of delusion of their senses. All Gnostics are accused, again, of being the exact opposite of what they are, in this case, they are called: failed seers.

Gnostics do not fail to see the hypocrisy of the Catholic Christian Church, and yet we neither condone nor condemn it either. A Catholic will even agree aloud that Jesus is Gnostic while reserving judgment in their heart. In this way they believe they themselves to be Gnostic. In this way they ask, "what would Jesus do," as if it were applicable to the lives of the western business world's yuppie bourgiousie. They firmly believe that at the heart of Gnosticism is the desire to debunk, to deflower the naive. So, they fancy themselves as Gnostic as they believe was Jesus when they say, in their hearts, they will "reserve judgment" on whether of not Jesus was Gnostic. By "reserving" their judgment, it frees up their tongue to speak any manner of discourse on the subject, to test for different people's reactions to different assumed "beliefs." This is the premise of the "Fishers of Men" myth.

So, in their heart, they may maintain "I am skeptical" but then, with their tongue, speak as one who is convinced of a "belief." This is what is different between being Catholic Christian and a Gnostic: for a Gnostic to be skeptical is not enough. We must speak the truth about our doubts. For a Christian, they may be an atheist, even a "Satanist," in their hearts, while accepting the transubstantiated Holy Communion wafer with their lying tongue.

It has long been a tactic of Catholic Christians to "draw out" the opinions of their opponents by seeming to retreat away from their interlocutor on an issue, especially if it will make their interlocutor seem unduly concerned with the issue by making themselves appear haughty to its irrelevance. This is the consummation of the "Fishers of Men" myth. In Scripture, Christ is said to have taught James and John to become "Fishers of Men." This is generally accepted to mean that Jesus was, even in his early ministry, preparing the apostles for a time when they would be without him. He was preparing them to evangelise for him, as would Peter, the "rock" on whom the Catholic Church is (alledgedly) founded, and Paul, whose doctrine overshadows the morals of Jesus in Catholic interpretation. This is, of course, all traceable to the initial idea that Gnostics are to debunking Catholicsm what Catholics are to Christianity, or rather, that Gnostics are as evangelical as Christians.

Of course, all of this was contrived by the agenda of the authors of the "pseudepigraphal" gospels that became authoritatively canonised into the latin Vulgate bible by the council of Nicea. The goal was to depict Jesus not according to the beliefs of the Gnostics, but in accordance with the Pauline doctrines of the early Catholic faction within the Christian Church. This retroactive selective editing was made decidedly easier when the gospels to be canonised were predominantly those provided by the early Catholics, the followers of the Pauline doctrines of evangelism to the goyim. The Catholics simply forced their Pauline agenda through the Council of Nicea by providing only their own versions of scripture, describing Christ as evangelical.

Now, when I say the canonised gospels were "pseudepigraphal" this means their authorship is "falsely attributed." For example, according to anti-Catholic historian Abelard Reuchlin, in "The True Authorship of the New Testament," Lucius Calpernius Piso wrote The Gospel of Mark (60-65AD). Arius Calpernius Piso wrote The Gosepl of Mathew (70-75AD), updated Mark (75-80AD), and collaborated with Pliny the Younger to write The Gospel of Luke (85-90AD). Justus Piso wrote The Gospel of John (105AD).

This group of people were the first Catholics. The information they were basing their characterisations of Christ upon had been derived from Paul of Tsarsis, whom had been sent by the Herodian Sanhedrin to the Essene Levite Cohenim community of Qumran as a spy and whom had returned a convert. Paul wrote feverishly on the importance of the early church, only to have it all subverted when the Catholics among the Council of Nicea used his scriptures to back their agenda of ascendency to power following the death of Emperor Constantine. They quickly dominated the doctrinal debates between the early church fathers, and rapidly rose to ascension as the predominant branch of the Christian Church, which is why Catholicism remains centred in Rome as opposed to Jerusalem.

The Christians had essentially abandoned the Holy Lands after the defeat of the last of the Roman legions by the mongol barbarians of Ghengis Khan. The Roman Empire would be split into the Orthodox Greek and Russian Cristian Church in the east and the Catholic Holy Roman Empire in the west. At this point there were no plans for what would come to be the raging blood baths of the Crusades. Following the handing over by the Hebrew patriarchs to the politically Moslem urbanising bedouin tribes of Jerusalem in 638 under the Pact of Umar, it would be another 663 years before the first Crusade to "liberate" the "Holy Land," in 1099.

So, what was the Catholic Church doing all that while, if its priorities were, at any point, at all concerned with the welfare of maintaining a Hebrew nation of Israel? The Catholic Church is the world empire. It has dominated the "known world" for as long as it has existed. At the top sits the pope, the beneficient dictator of Christendom (the de facto, and presumed a priori, kingdom of Christianity), elected by a committee of cardinals, and so on down to the Arch-diases, the bishops and the priests. It is a "bottom-up" form of Democracy, but with a single figure at its head. If the Catholic Church permitted a nation of Israel, it would have to sacrifice some of its own governing authority over such a region. In so doing it would have only two options (other than transfer of the Christian papacy): democracy among the citizens, or admission of the Kingly bloodline descended from the true person of Jesus, upon whom the Pisos had unwisely based their zodiacal passion play.

This, it should be obvious, would never be permitted to happen under the Catholic psyhic empire. It would unseat the myth of Christ by which the Catholics to this day maintain the seat of highest authority in the land (equivalent to the once Egyptian pharoahs) overseeing a vast network of confessed and blessed sinners. If it were admitted that Jesus was a man, and not "the son of man," then the premise for the Christian religion would be toppled and the Catholics would have no grounds for their authority. Therefore, it is, to this day, vehemently despised by Catholicism to admit that there was even a delegation of French desposyni to request attendance at the Council of Nicea. For the descendants of the Hebrew royal bloodline (descended from King David, from Jacob-Israel, and thence from Abraham) to have even existed at all after the supposed cruifixion of Christ denies that with Him died out the one and only blood-line descent from the original priest-kings of ancient Sumeria. Following this event, according to goyim evangelic Pauline Christianity, as cowered behind by the Piso Roman Catholics, the position of King of the Jews became the post known now as pope, or Head of the Roman Christian Church.

From what I have said, you might expect most Gnostics to be very anti-Catholic. The truth is that, nowadays, a gnostic simply has zero efficacy in any form of organised (institional) religion. The apocryphal gospel of Thomas has been quoted recently in the movie Stigmata, where it was used to question the authority of Catholic dogma, "split a piece of wood and you shall find me, break a stone and I will be there." The modern interpretation of this phrase, attributed by the reliable source, Thomas, the Apostle of Christ, to have been spoken by Jesus Himself, is that Jesus, like any modern agnostic, questioned the need for Churches, and thus for the sanctity of organised religion itself. This is quite opposed to Catholic doctrine which depicts the Church as the "rock" upon which all faith is built.

Right now, the largest percentage of the world's population, as regards religion, is agnostic, or undecided about the relationship between themselves as individuals and the nature of the ineffable Will of the Godhead. In other words, those who question the will of the divine currently comprise the majority class, formerly held by the Messenger class of Gnostic seers. As I have said, the Messenger class of Hermes, the priest-kings of Ahura-Mazda (Divine Wisdom), the Sons of Light, were opposed to the Sons of Darkness, followers of Asura/(fallen)Deva-Ahriman (Bright Darkness), chief among the Persian demonlogy. However now, the philosophies behind religion have been so totally shrouded to the mind of modern mankind that rather than the eternal struggle between the clear and the clouded, the whole idea has fallen under the shadow of doubt.

Now, the modern agnostics are as likely to be led to chaos by Ahriman as to follow the righteous path of Pythagoras, in pursuit of the "Golden Mean." This is how they accomplished the fall of the Messenger Class, finally squelched following the burning of the Alexandrian library and the transportation of its contents to, eventually, the Vatican Archives: They blurred the Golden Mean between Righteous Freedom and Wrongful Imprisonment of the mind with circular dialectics; they told us Zurvan-Akarana (infinite time) killed Zoroaster, the Prophet of Ahurah-Mazda. He was sacrificed as an incarnate manifestation of deity by crucifixion much as was said, much later, of Jesus according to the Pliny's and the Pesos of Rome. By killing off the prophet of the Goodness of God, it was believed one could test that deity's immortality; by killing the messenger, it was seen, by the ancient mind, to test the validity of the message.

Of course, with the death of Thoth, the combination of the Apollonian Horus with the Dionysian Amun-Osiris, the Church has finally accomplished the overthrow of the class of warrior mystics, of true prophets and of visionary seers. Now, those Gnostics who once brought the Message of the Divine to the notice of the unelightened have all been exiled to the realms just beyond the fringes of the popular psyche, which is confounded by the enforced necessity to perpetuate untrue myths based on a morally bankrupt philosophy. Now, in the fringes of consciousness, all modern agnostics know there is something wrong with our interpretation of reality, but they have been too conditioned to peasant mentality for the past 2000 years to believe themselves capable of understanding the true nature of God on their own.

Thoth, Hermes, the God of Time, that is, the Messenger of the Truth, had to be associated, by doctrine (since to accomplish such by popular belief would be impossible), with the equivalent of the Gnostic conception of the Demiurge, Samael the Blind, or the God of occlusion and darkness, Ahriman. Therefore, to suppress the true nature of God that can be achieved by the right study and proper learning of the cycles of time, the early church fathers introduced the Roman conception of Ialdabaoth as "Lucifer," the "Light-bringer," whom they boldly confused with Prometheus by mis-attribution to Christ in the desert of Galilee of the ancient Chaldean scripture quoted by Isaiah in the Torah. By putting into the mouth of the divine incarnate the words, "how art thou fallen oh Lucifer," rather than "split a piece of wood..." etc. the early church fathers began their 2000 year Crusade against the "heresy" of Gnosticism.

The confusion of Lucifer (the morning star, Venus, known as Shalem), with Satan (the evening star, or Venus set, known as Shaher), that is the NT passage, "how thou art fallen oh Lucifer" and the OT passage, "how art thou fallen oh Satan," is the entire root of the confusion between Prometheus, theif of fire from the Gods, and the demiurge, Ialdabaoth, creator of our presently confused and deluded sense of reality. Prometheus, the torch-bearer of knowledge, was slandered as Lucifer, a hitherto non-existent deity brought into popular usage by the Roman Pesos, and Ialdabaoth, the Gnostic conception of the religious God that demands worship and consent, was slandered as Satan, the secret judge, the tempter and deceiver, ever testing and hostile to all.

Thus the Ialdabaoth of the Gnostics, rather than unmasking the True Face of Time from behind the facelessness of Allah/YHV, the religious creator deity de jour, was used against those very gnostics themselves, until the Light of Truth has been all but extinguished from inside the minds of mortal mankind. Now, we know the Church is its own conception of the Anti-Christ, yet still we kneal before its altars. Instead of questioning the duality of Good and Evil to arrive at Right Knowledge of the True Nature of the single Godhead, we have rent them hopelessly asunder, placing in the name of one the other over all.

Instead, Thoth has been "cast down" to "cling to the sides of the pit" of Hell, the punishment of the Good brother of the Devilish demiurge, the religious conception of YHVH the father, Jesus Christ the Son, and the triune Holy Spirit, for threatening to dethrone the true Satan, whom you would call God, by revealing the Truth of the Greater Light to the masses. Now, there is no more difference in conception in the modern mind between Lucifer and Satan than there was to the ancients between Venus, the morning star, and Prometheus, theif of fire. They have simply become the modern conceptions of the same ancient symbolic observations, however now, associated exclusively with evil, and therefore their right understanding veiled.

Let me say again, may it be said ten thousand times until it need be said no more, "Free Yourself From Mental Slavery. Free Yourself From Religious Guilt For Original Sin."

-ben

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UPDATE: 06/30/2006

The drugs don't work. I use them, then feel nothing different. I am not euphoric, I do not feel elated. I get high and feel morose. I achieve the perspective above, and then look down with sorrow. I know when I passed my threshhold. I was talking with Damien about shamanism. It was July the fourth, 2004. At that point I had been dry for a year, and was quite content to never think of drugging again. But then I did, and now I do. My usage doubles in half the time. The less effected I feel, the more I use, and vice versa. I am accelerating as I near the bottom of the downward spiral.

Everything seems so normal now. So serene, so pleasant, so banal. Soon a drastic change will come. It has begun for my friends. M and J are pregnant and moving as I write this, D is moving back in with K. It is autumn in the student ghetto. A new batch of college Freshman will flood the city streets in hot-rods, sucking up to Seniors to buy them beer. Next year they will "try" pot, and after that, as Juniors, they will "try" acid. This is how the American engine of ingenuity works. The sneech machine of American society. It replicates the seasons, lengthening them into an unnatural perspective. We learn death.

I see her standing at the doorway, beckoning me through. She tells me every step I take forward leads me one step closer to being with her. But suddenly I feel the cold draught of doubt. Is she lying? She doesn't really have to exist, the cold wind whispers. She could be a ghost, a figment of your imagination, it wouldn't matter. She will hold the door for you, but once you have gone outside, she will close it behind you without following you through. Then you will see it was a door opening up onto a cliff, leading nowhere, and only too late realise, your freedom is her trap, in which she has ensnared you by capturing herself, and then letting you go.

Suddenly I'm in Golgotha again. The cold air of early autumn only a little north of my hometown. On my journey to see her. It does seem now like it was in another life, so long ago. Do you remember how it all ended? Because it did end. It's over now. You already died. The evil spirit has already left you, why do you hurry to put it back in?

I try to rationalise it all. She has been kidnapped, I explain to myself, by psychic vampires. They are preparing her to enter their realms. She has been laid bare of her acutraments now, she stands there as she is, that is, she is as the spirit that into her body was born. She stands there, like a burning fire. I see her invisible blinding brightness again. But I am the clouds; the brighter she shines, the thicker and heavier with my sorrow I become. The world cannot see her. I get high and rain down. I reign sorrow.

I do not love her. I want to be her. I have become a great raging hurricane inside my soul. Behind my eyes there is lightning and in my heart the growl of thunder. Why can we not be together as one, or why can I not be content alone? I connot blame God. What would I do better? I contain this universe in a fit of rage and clench inward, fracturing the indestructable realm, and pouring forth upon the realm of immortality the filth of my selfish desire. I loathe myself, and send myself into the lowest shadowy crevice of the firey inferno of hell. Cut away. That is the entire experience of the holy and the divine. Commercials like teardrops.

Nor can I apologise. She forbade that, my dominatrix, Shekina, shiksa Goddess. For what good does it do to explain to God that He should let you in because the fault He finds within you is one He Himself put there long ago? So why would she? Why would she forgive me simply because I beg her to? She shall not do so. She promised as much long ago. And now that I am alone, how else can I remember her but to keep that promise?

She has forgotten my very name. I am nothing to her. There is no me in her memory now, and I am nothing more than this flesh. No one from my generation loves me. The elders love me, the ancients do too. But no one from my own time shall love my flesh. My mother's family name will live on, and my father's family name will live on, but the blood-pact they made in the generation of my own parents shall die away and end. There is nothing more I can do than accept it as such. Some days I am so in love, and so optimistic for us both, and each. But luckily there are other days, like now, when I can step outside of this and see the truth.

I have her confused for my manhood. I am locked out of my own house, the house where I am a man. But this house is not her. It was she and I together who built it. But hers is only the name of its foundation. It has grown even beyond me, I call it Heaven, the House of God, but I keep my heart in a corner that I call hell. For without her, what is the rest of the house but empty? There is no other to keep me company, no love; there is no fire in the hearth and no warmth in the house; it is not a home fit for a family and for the raising of my children. It is not fit for a son. The table seats just one: the king who outgrew his own castle. I have sought to stay like a child. I am not a man. I am not fit for this skin.

I have sought to be like unto God. I wished to know him, but I cannot. I am mortal, offspring of the loins of Adam, the mortal fleshly parts of the ineffable soul of Pigera-Adamas. Worse than that, I am condemned as like unto the forgotten one besides King Cain. For my soul was Able, now slain. And my spirit remains Adam, king of the flesh. And my body is the fruit of Seth, that is, of the generations of the damned. Immortality is not mine, neither to dispense nor to receive, in my time. I place a curse upon the earth, but even this fails me: that I should live in the immortal generation, and be the last to die.

It's funny. I swore that I would lay down her image before her, and lay her down before God. I am obviously pissing off the devil in me, ancient tempter, who comes to sit upon my chest like a succubus. I do not wish to have meant what I said when I said it, maybe I can still take it back? There has got to be a better way.

I feel I am curling up into a vortex at the center of my being. This feeling, I know, is my soul. The being remains untouched by it; somehow, despite this, I keep typing. But the soul is draining down a hole, being sucked into a wound. I am sinking into an abyss within. How can I describe this? How can I explain that I am the shard of the crystal, the son of the father, the one whose heart aches most is also the one who is the ruler below only the omnipotent? What canÝI say, what word can describe it? For as I look down in it, I behold all in my shame.

Here then, I say, is my shame. Let me lift it up. I show my face again to her image. It looks down on me, from its shrine. What have I done? Has it all been a lie? What am I trying to do? Reunite the God inside me with His bride, Shekina? What is that? Why would I want that? I spit, alien concept. There is nothing for me in my future. It is not only not a matter of destiny, and therefore a product of prophecy, it is inevitable in one regard only: my failure to return the human race to a state of immortality. I will die, and that will culminate the failure that has been my existence. That is the best my soul can hope for.

I offer myself, a humble initiate. I seek more light. That is all. I just want more light. Now, come before me, messenger from the light. Take my hand and guide me up, away from my death and this precipace. Let the dawn come over me so that I can see clearly. Let understanding give way to fear, for that is the beginning of Wisdom.

I remove the heart of Satan from the centre of my soul. By the sorrow that glints in my eye, a righteous fire sparks within the severed essence, and it bursts into a blood red flame. The fire burns the muscle into an ember, and finally into white ash. The ash begins to shine a bright white light until it becomes invisible. Then there is no more suffering, and no more sorrow, no more heartache, no separation, no clinging, nothing. This is the truth of the cessation of suffering: patience. In time that which is impermanent will pass, while that which is imperishable shall remain forever. Of course, there is no proof of that. Or rather, the evidence indicates the contrary. It is proven that change and chaos are all that exist. The "ideal" patterns are, if real at all, transfinite and ineffable. That is why I crave to die: that is why I long to get "up" there: because it is a lie. We are told, from birth, when we die, we will go "up" to the ideal realm, Heaven. This is not true. This is a lie. This false hope is a poisonous snake oil: toxic.

I remove the heart of the Messiah, for it is the heart of Satan. It has tempted me and led me astray. God has given us chaos, and said, "Bring forth Order." So God has given me my flesh, and I have beheld the world that He made for the flesh I wear to be surrounded in, and I have found for me a grave man. That is the story, the trap, the guardian of the gate, indeed! For beneath the gaze of this overseer all have fallen, and has he found even one of us not guilty? For he was betrayed and tortured in the flesh, that he may then turn and torture us in our souls! Jesus is the devil, the devil, the Devil! I have been given the intoxicating dream, but I do not wish to drink. I swoon at first draught. Then I see what might have been. Then I am blinded by knowledge of what once was. Then I am filled up with understanding until the wisdom flows forth from me like tears. There is no going back. No matter how much I ever hope, pray, or feel I have suffered sufficiently to deserve. There is no eternal reward. There is no union of the One True God and man's spirit, it's bride. The Temple is her own Prostitute now. There is fornication in the Temple of God, the likes of which no God could ever conceive.

I have comitted the ultimate unfathomable sorrow. I have let loose upon this plane of our dimension the beast from the beyond. It was I who punctured the hole between this universe and the darkness beyond, and it was I who brought back the soul of the most damned with me. I cast it forth upon the earth before I even knew what I was doing, and here now it has made its home. For the untold generations it has suffered through during my life alone are alike the mighty righteous generations of the Holy Ones since the fall of Adam. It roams the earth as death itself. It has unleashed the plague. My sin is too great, Lord, I cannot bear the punishment anymore!!

Pandora, Pandera, Padiah. Now do you see my plight? Have I not found in the mythologies of my day a way to explain myself to myself something so much like what he'd found then? I have gone crazy. Or is that only my cross? Perhaps there is sanity yet beneath this, and soon upon it such will be raised up. Please release me, my love. I have been inside the cage of your heart forever. I cannot bear it anymore.

I reach into the depths of the murky darkness within myself. I have plucked out the heart of pleasure in sorrow, and I have plucked out its afterbirth, sorrow in pleasure, both Satan and Jesus begone now. I cast thee both out of the heart of my heart, holy of holies, I cast you Out oh Ahura-Mazda, I cast thee Out oh Ahriman, may you both be damned YHVH and Elohim, for Satan and Maloch, your two heads, the Good and the Evil, Right and Wrong, Light and Dark, squabble forever, as ceaslessly as pointlessly. Niether will win, neither is right. The whole goddamn orb is a side-show, a trick, mirage, illusion, mis-direction. The hand is quicker than the eye.

You were supposed to save us all, benpadiah.

I certainly can't. My life is too full of sins already. It is like a sieve. You cannot stear a ship using a sieve for a sail. I have given every single drop of the seed I have spilled to her. But she is not with me. This is why I say my life is like a sieve: because all that seems to seep through me into this world is a dew of sin. I exude failure. I am all that I've made myself. I can't possibly atone. I can't.

Listen to me now very carefully. The sin I see in you I cannot atone for. I cannot bear the burden of your sin in addition to my own. It was already the burden of my own sin that I carried: to fear God, to love you, and to set you free from being chained to me. I have done this. Now I am absolved. But I am not merely "coming up" for air. I am done. I am through with this. Do you Hear Me?

Now, the very thought of your sin: to never be with me again in the flesh, to disappear into the crowd until you have forgotten my very birth! I cannot bear that. I cannot bear even the thought of it, it cracks my head open like a hatching egg. Stop racking through me, Satan! You have prevailed. Oh, Satan. You, You are My Lord, for Now, You Have Prevailed.

I have no heart. I have taken out the heart of the double-named Master, the yin-yang ohm has resonnated from my depths to the ends of the Himalayas. I have smote my heart into barren nothingness, I have crushed it in a burning fire until it has ceased to exist. But now I have no heart. The trickster. His legacy. This was what he wanted all along. For now the hole in my heart has become the hole punctured between this universe and the darkness beyond. Now the void is open. The void from which first came only Satan, now comes forth the chthonic pantheon. For within me are the nine gates to hell. And as I fall, they open. Now I cannot help but fall, for through me hath sin itself come flaming alive into this realm, the very thorn-vine of the thistle that choked out the wrathful wine's good and harvested grape vine. Do you remember the Apocalypse. For it is surely completed within me.

I wander the desert for ten years. I am quickly subdued by it. I saw a mirage once, but she eluded me. She spoke the secret words to me that cleft my heart and soul in two, and then she disappeared. For eight years since I have wandered through the desert, and, elusively, that phantom has followed me, closing a gate behind me each year as I pass through it. Seven gates have been closed behind me, and seven locks upon them, and seven seals upon the locks, and until now none could open them.

So, by passing through, I have opened the seven seals. But all for naught, for they have been but seven lips, so long sealed that, now parted, their breath has grown bitter. Their kiss is the desert, and all is for naught. Do you recognise these seven lips... for they were yours oh Whore of Babylon. Now, I declare, Peace shall prevail in Babylon, while war shall from thence forth divide Israel.

Here, have my heart to save you. Oh, I'm sorry. There's nothing left of it. The devil was named left ventricle, and Jesus was named right ventricle, and I have torn these hollows out of myself, and in their place left a gaping gap twice their girth. We are now eternal opposites. Why do I say, "we are now"? Because I mean, "as we have always been," and that is what I mean by "eternal." You are the north pole, I am the south pole. We will never align. This cannot happen in this reality, this dimensional plane, this flesh's home realm. But it can happen in the dark darkness. Why is it called the "dark" darkness? Because there was the darkness and then there was that which preceded the first light. For it is written, "In the beginning, Darkness was on the face of the deep." It follows from this "fiat lux," and "God moved upon the face of the waters." However, in the beginning there was the darkness removed even from before the darkness of the deep. Deep sleep in the deep down darkness. That is where I am from, and that is where she and I are one.

There is definately a time that is coming soon. A time of terrible tribulation. A time for Judgment Calling. Because now I have passed into the realm of the eighth beyond the seven, and now I stand before the ninth gate. It is open to me. Shall I pass through? You do realise this gate leads to a cliff's edge. Shall I fly then, Oh Lord, I, your humble servant, shall I make final sacrifice tonight then? What more can I give you than the promise to spend every waking hour of my life immersed in the Great Work, baptised a phenix? Please lord, spare your humble servant, do not take away my reason to live, but let me go on in your name.

This is the holocaust of souls: as promised, so delivered, I want you to know this: it is not "drugs" that have been expanding your mind, Jon. It is the wisdom of the ancients. You have fed off their minds until their lives were snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Now, do you understand, that death needs time for what it kills to grow in? Do you see that this means the same as to say that: "when nothing is true, everything is permitted"? Because you do live in the final generation, and these are the end times. But not in the way that it was written. Instead, read: "it is the last generation so far," and instead say, "the times are always ending." Because know that, in the future, your mind too will be nothing more than the recycled fodder of the Matrix, feeding the young in the form of Soylent Green. Even your soul, dead and turned to clay, might be used to stop a hole, and keep the wind away. What is this wind? Is this the promised Hot Wind, the Leveling Wind? When the "Great Burner" he is talking about come? When will that personality take over his over-crowded brain? I want to see psychic carnage! No. This wind blows away, drawn outward like a riptide before a tsunami, but it is such a mighty wind, what new wave of destruction will it bring? Shall we live long enough to know, or shall the wind merely blow away our entire lives? So mote it be, then. Do you know? Do you understand, do you care? Does it matter if I lie to you, as long as it leads you into my arms in the end? You're a hot-headed, presumptuous rebel. And you're the devil.

Hell. Why am I cursing my lover? Because I can! Because what does it matter what a deaf man yells across a gorge, or what a blind man paints on the walls of a dark cave? There is no God here. Here is where I am, in the vacuum that Nature abhors, the Void: "Where God-Is-Not." Here I am, I say, Where? He answers, I cannot see you, you have made aprons for yourselves out of fig leaves, and I can't see you? Is God blind? This is why I am cursing my lover: I thought I wasn't alone here.

I thought we were in this together, for the whole long time, that whether things were good or bad, that we would always be together on the one level we hold true within ourselves above all others, the one level no one else could ever touch, the place where our minds could both retreat at will, where we could find one another when we needed each other, that little hole in the back of the bottom of the deepest darkest well inside the underside of the unconscious ice-berg of our sleeping minds. You betrayed me. This is nothing new, but I have just found out. This is a Good Thing, you think!? You think it's about time I knew the truth? Quid Est Veritas?

The truth is: you never loved me. I have discovered it. I lifted up the stone and behold, A Light! Now, I shall terrify you more! Let me by God pull the sword from this stone: "I am God, I am You." These were the words I heard that night. Let you confer to the end of the Gospel of Thomas, you will have understanding of the "three" words. But now let me tell you this: I was never faking. I was never lying. I was never untrue, even in my passing mind. For ten years I have held the flame, from the moment we met. If you think you can deny this, then you will bow before the impossible.

This is my crown: this stone. And this one. And this one. Do you remember that night? Lord, did you cry out in ecstacy with Peter? For you banished me, you may as well have sent me to Hell, for Hell is where I immeidately went. You may as well have placed yourself in the Heavens, my anti-pole! For that is where I have always held you, in my esteem. You may as well have sat on the right shoulder of Saint Peter Himself and flung down every stone I laid down upon my skull. I screamed, and no one came. Not God, nor the devil. And not her. Not my true love. But let me tell you: I have been haunted by the Father and the Mother my entire life. This flesh is thrice accursed: once in its own name, and once in the name of the Anima, and once again in the name of the Animus. Father and Mother, God, Holy Ghost, I reject you all, You Are My Sickness, begone. I vomit the blood of Gods, now I curse you and reject all.

GOD. I have always loved that which was Good. I have always followed the lead of those who shone, and I have always led in light those who came to me for more. Now, WHY DO YOU HATE ME? What the FUCK have I personally done to get your goat? Because you gave her to me, you took her away. You told me I broke a rule I never before knew existed, and then you told me, go explode. And so I did. Now, I have served you all along. I have never strayed. I have been your humble servant all along. I have never strayed. Now listen to me: I LOVE you. Now, in the name of God from beyond all that is, WHY DO YOU HATE ME? God, I wish I could scream it up so loud that the dome of heaven would shudder, and the whole of reality reverberate with it. I have cried Judgment, and "Be Human Beings For Christ Sake!" I have sacrificed everything, in the name of every one of the signs you guide me by, the beacons of universal meaning, I made sacrifice to Judgment.

Now, tell me Now: will I ever see her again... But no. I know what the answer is for myself. I will not be handed her upon a silver platter. That is not worthy of her, and that is not worthy of God. No, to punish me for your jealousy, I should be made to fight, to struggle, to strive alike the sheep of your heards, to toil and labour, to earn bread by the sweat of my brow, and to die. For my revenge, I shall inherit your soul as my own in the afterlife. HA! You think? You think that the two poles can ever love? One is good, and one is evil. That is that. I have made this pact between myself and that which hounds me. The two archetypes: the one the white, the other the black, the Yin and the Yang, Anima and Animus, my Two Protectors. These are the deities I control, for they are like the lesser archetypes: my shadow, my echo, and me. Now know this: I have made this pact with these two. So long as they shall follow me, and from now until they cease to exist, may they be us. These are the two, and from the two come the three. That is the way of this reality.

You claim, you feel nothing. You claim, you were faking your pleasure in my prescence? You claim, the hell with my love! Know that my love is a hot wind now, but that there is something much greater to follow. In the afterlife, we are already at war: eternity knows no tomorrows, no yesterdays. We are at war now in eternity. You think I love you? Do you have any inkling what that word even means to me? I LOVE YOU. With all of me. All of my past, every moment, lined up in a row behind my eyes as I look deep into yours. Know the Father. Now, I will see the future deep within and through you, Now Understand The Mother. Do you find yourself worthy? Aren't you the devil, and isn't this hell?

That is what Love Means: to sit in the present and with a breath of air judge between the fire of the past and the water of the future. You aren't worthy of passing judgment on me. I know you. Deceiver, misleader, little Ms. Leader. You think I've forgotten one precious second we were together? No. I have not. You were praying to Satan. I was lost, and instead of finding me and, like a good shepherd, leading me into the warmth of your own heart, you led me along, deep into a ten year wilderness, and then, like a mirage, you vanished.

I remain pure. I remain tainted only by the crime commited against me by my own flesh and blood father. Now know this: I have the disease. I am the sickness. I grasp it in my hand and tear it out by the roots. It is all that was left inside of me of me. It was the hole where the two halves of my heart, the good side, and the evil, were. Now I have pulled out the hole and have a new heart: an imperishable and indestructable one. One of pure clear crystal, unshatterable. But for one shard, that I give to you, my dear, with just this glance between us.

Ire. What has become of you? Who are you now? I stand between two doorways, one leading off a ledge, the other leading into your heart. Which do I choose? How will I know? So I placate thee, Oh Lord, My Father, send me a sign of the Shekina's Love! Send me a token, my mother, of the truth of our beginning and our ending being one together. Let me see the vision of redemption!

There is no solution. Ont he ninth gate, there is a knocker, and this knocker is shaped like a gargoyle, and this gargoyle talks to me, and it says, "Man, why have you come to this fate? Why are you so sorry and wretched? You should be girded up in a suit of armour, now, for you stand before the bed chambre of your lady! Had you two not conspired all of this? Eh? Do you remember the dawn of that day? Do you remember the dew of the grass? Do you remember the innocence that filled all the earth and brought down the sixth and the seventh heavens onto the very face of earth? Let me remind you: "we will have to be apart then," you said, "because our jobs are different. You have your job to do, and I have mine. And at the end of our work, we shall find each other again. Then we will have the fruits of our work, and each other, and we will be happy together forever from then on. You and I are meant for each other. Our stars are from the heavens, we are just their pawns. They will guide us by their light until we are back in each other's arms. It won't be long, my love, not long." Didn't you say that? Wasn't that your own promise? Now why won't you keep it? Why do you foresake my covenants, why do you postpone my commandments? Have I not told you, put down what you are doing and follow me? And where have you been and whom have you followed?

There is one True God. In This I Put My Trust: God, Above All. For he is like myself: what I make of him. Should I wish to see a burning bush, I can see one any time I like. I and God speak continuously through one another. Up here there is only me, and Him, and You. Do you remember what I said, "arctic eyes"? Do you remember I told you, "I will love you forever," do you remember when I said to you, "don't be afraid"? I want you to put your trust somewhere other than yourself for a change. Put your trust in me? Never, I know, I know, Never. Let me tell you something: I believe in our love. I Believe in Our Love. We Are IN Love. We will always be together.

God, Give me the Power to Take Upon Me Her Sin As Well As My Own. I shall bear the burden for her choosing to forget me, in addition to the burden of my continuing to love her. I tear out my left heart. I tear out my right heart. The one is called Jesus, the Father. The other is called Satan, the Mother. Do you accept these offerings that I, myself, Jon Gee, am making to you? I am only a hole in the fabric of this universe now. Come through me Oh Destiny!

So, we shall never see each other again. She and I will not be together again in the life of this flesh. May we live forever, shall we be sent always to the opposite ends of the earth, that the more we should search for one another, the more lost we shall become. Let us stray! Let us Stray! You, with ears, hear me! Let me ingest my gold and hurry hurry my fate! Let Hermes hurry my fate, fleet footed messenger God! Let her ear hear my decree: So be it: on Her Authority: she and I shall never again meet in this life.

Jesus Christ. Will you bear my sorrow with me a little while? Will you sit with me and listen to me lament? You see, there was this girl. Stop me if you've heard this one. There was this girl, and she meant everything to me. She saved my life, you know? Without her I definately would not be standing here before you as I am now. She made the world light up. The whole world. But I broke her heart. I hurt her bad. I took something out of the core of her, and frightened her there in the deep deep depths of her heart, and where my image should be there instead is the face of a demon. I made her kneal down, and cower in a corner, and I raged above her, my every word was like the hammering down upon her raw essence with ten thousand fists of fiery fury. And I told her: "You Make Me Want To Kill Myself." She shattered there, in the palm of my hand, and blew away like sand. And this is what I offered up that year. It was not a blessing. It was the breaking of a woman's heart for nothing. For Nothing. For what then? For what? I am not a man. I am not a child. I was not fit for birth. I should not have been conceived. I am a demon brought down through obscene sex-magick and satanic blood worship. I am the devil's tuxedo of flesh.

Well who else am I? Come forth, oh archetypes. I know there are no more of you. There is the one on the one hand, and there is the other one on the other hand. There are the two. When you bring them together, the third is their union in one. But there is no other one than their union, and never a third besides it. So, forever for me and you, there shall be two. We are split in twain. Asunder. I am atrophied. I occlude. I do not hate you, like they said I would. I cannot look you in the eye though. You see, mine is both our shame now. I will never look you in the eye again. I have closed the butterfly wings of your free will about you now, may my shrine cocoon your image that your soul should be untethered. I will worship now at the feet of the Matrix. The dark darkness.

For I am outside of time and space, this is true. That is where we met, and that is where you in my heart are kept. But I have gone out even further, my darling. Oh the lands I've seen, Oh the Kingdoms I promised you, how it was about to all be fulfilled. But now, now it will never be, and it is locked up again behind me. In the eighth year following the Apocalypse and Judgment Day, the Ninth Gate Shut. I stayed inside, alive. And she stayed too. But to be far from me, and far from me forever, we said, let the ninth gate stand between us, I on one side, and she on the other, and we two eqaul, standing there side by side but apart, and between us the gate to eternity.

May the kingdom be yours my love. May you come and go through the gate while I guard it, may you see and may you reap the vines of the lands I have added to the kingdom of the living and the dead. See it all now, Irene, a great good vista, a great good expanse, and all of it a mirage, as much as was ever our love, and now it fades, and the glass shatters, and the sand blows away like a flickering flame in the wind.

You see, it was promised to those who keep true. And it was me. But it was not you. Now you shall have my kingdom. And I shall leave your heart alone. As you always wanted, you may have it back from within my chest, my second heart, the one I stole, so long ago, from beneath your breast. I offer them both forth to you: take them. Take my offering now, or I will be humilated in eternity. Please God, accept these twin hearts. One I bequeth back to she from whom I stole it, and the other I offer as a sacrifice to my father, the True God.

But I refuse to take either of them back. I am NOT Satan. I am NOT Jesus. I am Jonathan Barlow Gee. There is no other me. The longer I put aside the job of being myself, the longer I prolong my damnable existence in this walking ape corpse. So let me busy myself then, about the work of planning my own death: my ascension by eating monoatomic gold. For this should be a celebration! It is a feast to life we are experiencing, between the Christian and Mayan Millennia! Let us throw up our arms and cry out in the name of the widow's son! Let us kill time to the hilt in the name of our revelry. Let us forget in wild abandon the life we could have had, together. That is not this universe, the twin universes have been severed, and now the parallel strands are driven apart, the convergeance, the conjunction, is ending, but the time is not quite yet, not quite yet, I can see the light of the dawn, but the sun has not yet risen, so revel. Revel now. Revel harder than you ever have before. And forget me.

-Jon

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this information is all © 2005- Jonathan Barlow Gee

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