SIGEL OF THE GREAT MYSTERY

Sigel 'Visions III' by Matthew James

The Great Crossing - The Evidence

All photographs by Matthew James 2003

The Phoenix At The Time Of The Crossing

The phoenix is albeit risen from the ashes of a former life which failed in its meaning ... at the time of the great crossing where the sun's double was seen in the sky and feared by those who knew why ... a new life began.

And now ... know the phoenix has returned to its adopted land from a cursed land close to the shadow of the sphinx.

It flies alone ... in the material dream ... but it is supported by many of the ancient names.

It is an ancient name itself, adding its sacred weight to the balance. Its charge is to bring forth the dream of stillness to the beleagured and the mis-informed ....

Evolution Is Delusion

Evolution is constant movement. Momentum from start to end. There is no stagnation or hesitation. It just moves on like the perpetual swing of the pendulum. But it relies on disharmony. On the delusion of the polarities of a start and an end.

Therefore evolution is part of a machine consciousness.

It is not part of the stillness which is the universal consciousness. The state of calmness and quiet. The splendour of no black or white. No good or evil. No right or wrong. The glory of oneness. Where within that one completeness there is the silent realisation of arrival and of departure. Of all things being within and without in that eternal instance.

Minds captured in the rapture of evolution can only acknowledge polarity and the obsession with division. The need for norms and rules and laws to keep machine creation within the confines of the illusion. Those minds are not ready to accept an existence free from the ripples of polarity.

Where there is no good and no evil. No white or black. No positive or negative. No male or female.

There is just one.

Minds not able to comprehend the wonder of one-ness are not ready for a leap from delusion to truth. From evolution to infinity. In oneness there are no theories or rules or laws or divisions. There is just one. One is all.

Somewhere Between The End & The Start

Inside of the lens, and so few realise it
A perspective not comprehended by the average of the herd
Who live their nine to five lives, smiling at debt
Because it is expected and it’s what everyone else endures ...

Never questioning, sitting in their armchairs and gazing at the silver screen.
Not realising the truth about life
Trusting that the scientist has got it right
Believing that the minister talks to the being in the sky

Watching the butchery depicted in all its glory
Believing the fight for eradication of terrorism, as it is stated
The insurgents defending their land ... seen by watching eyes as evil
They believe it completely, taken in by the imagery of the silver screen.

Lost in the anathema
Spinning round and round in the raptures of a dream
But because they feel it,
Their meagre lives are real ...

The words of the necromancer would be taken as lies
Rantings of a lunatic
Because
... if it were so
... the scientist would reveal on the silver screen
What have governments to gain feeding a lie to the likes of me
It makes no sense
... I prefer my ignorance
... my blindness ...

Few realise
... the truth when they hear it
The poisons have got to them
... from the food, from the water

Their minds are closed
Their consciousness is separated
They are little more than puppets on the gravy train
Slaves to the ruling families
... expendable and predictable ...

Unaware they are behind the lens
Within a complex software program
Not reality but a figment of imagination

Maybe, if they bravely ventured into the world of the necromancer
They would see what is really there
... in the realm of the dead ...
He has inklings of truth
Insights of what is beyond
Hearing fellow consciousness telepathically
Escaping the mortal net to become captured in another layer
Another zone in the complexity

But at least they can change the tapestry
They can flit from scene to scene ...
Still ruled by illusion

But aware the necromancer has the answer
Accept it isn’t real and endure its journey for however long
It is set to come to an end
Like any program
... it has a start and it has an end

It is looped
... because the players are ignorant
And the dolls have been separated by the dreamer
Given an awareness of their own ....

But the likes of I
Have come into the place behind the lens
With full awareness
Dreamer fully aware of the doll
Generating intention
So all will receive the revelation ....

The time of armchair ignorance is drawing to a close
The spell of the rapture is over
But it takes time to be dissolved
Listen to me
.... or not if you choose
... but you will in the end .......

Presenced

Haunted by the unknown each and every night
Spells and barriers fail to prevent its hold
The white grimoires must record ...
To warn the flies who come this way
A spidery power more than the Mage exists here
And though the Mage is fearless
Permitting no echoes to reach the entity
A web of disruption shakes his shore
Mirror glass shards line the hall ...
Each and every night here
Presenced by a shadow
A formless energy
Silently lurking ...
Walls of thinking
Barriers of protection fail
It still reaches through ...
To prod and poke and touch ...
It began ... an essence of humour
Feet left free of cover .... brushed against in the night
But quickly ... it became much more
Lifting in its mysteriousness ...
An enchantment reminding him of the young child
Throttled with fear in the night
Screaming out ... clandestine presence
Abduction?
Abduction returning?
Maybe .... it may come to something more ...
But, the Mage knows he is presenced not away from this shore
Until perhaps ... it finds his light
And resumes its quest to haunt him ...
Thus the white grimoires record
They report his fearlessness
And his inability to cleanse with spell or light or barrier ....

White Grimoire Energetics

There is magic in all which he writes
In all the imagery which his word creates
Which eyes absorb ... and mind interprets
For the soul to wander ....
Along illusory avenues
Through mystical vales
For beyond the torture of the mind control enmasse
Be free in the tales
Be free in the visions suspended in these shores
Magic energetics
White grimoires ... alive in a way of their own
Beyond the limits of the human places ...

Free radical energetics of thought
Not limited by opinion
Freed ... to be planted in any dream
In any pathway beyond the limits of lies ....
Energetics here and now ...
To create anything and everything
In nothing ...
For the philosophy of he who creates the white
Knows that white and black are the same
Knows that polarity exists only where there is illusion
But the truth is ....
The energetics bring the stillness
That which destroys division
It is peace and it is everything which opposes this illusion
It is the tracks which leads to dissolution
And the end of the dream ..........
Be warned,
The energetics are potent
They are not to be taken lightly
For they lead to the greatest depths a mind can go
They lead to madness for those not equipped with realisation of truth ...
Or comprehension of what is the dream ....

Step Outside Of The Square

Step outside of the square
Rise above the hum of the crowd
Let your voice be heard in the hills
Like reverberations in the snow
An avalanche of difference to come falling down
Down onto the roof tops
Of programmed thinking
Be that difference
Be more than just another sheep
Without fear the walls fall down
The demons have no hold on you
Once you shine
Shine bright
And let others follow you
Step outside of the square
Climb up out of the rut
Be the note heard in the cacophany
The one note that leads the orchestra
Be the first beat of the metronome
And set the rhythm of the soul
To change
To be on a different wavelength
Its within you to be this
Each and every one
Free to resonate as they choose
Darkness and light choices to make
Be neither yet both
Be both but neither
By being one and complete
Complete containing both
Still of no polarity

An End To A Beginning

I see the shining sun in the sky
Hanging like the most perfect melody
I see the path which opens up before me
I know the glorious way has made itself be known to me
I sense the bouncing blue spheres that wish to play with me today
I hear their bells, I feel their love
I have no fear, for fear is such a mortal thing
I am more than mortal now
I transcend that way of thinking, that programming
I rouse myself from that dream
And see the Kind Man with his hands beckoning for me
I feel no sadness only regret
I feel for those I will leave behind
Those who are trapped in their ways of thinking
Who cannot see the light of the new dawn which shone before them
Too late .... I must go now
Too late ... its time to go to the shining sun myself
I must follow the way so many have gone before me
This time never to return
Through the white billowing mists I see figures there
The ones who are waiting for me
Excitedly my spirit soars
As the mortal pain fades from my mind
I know now I can be free
I know now I will remember how to smile
The battle has not been lost
I had merely forgotten it all for a short time
To experience what I couldn’t recall
Made the sacrifice
Turned the page
And now I must return ...
So for those I leave behind
Please don’t feel sadness
Only love
My love for all of you .....

Reflections Within The Dream

Gazing out the window into the dream
From this 'room' also within the dream
All parts extension of my mind
I look across at the buildings
I gaze into the clear blue sky ……

These things are what they are
Only because I interface with the collective
And it tells me what these things are.
I reflect then like the glass I see through
As I watch this illusory world go by
I ponder as I see the busy human worker ants
Below me they wander in every direction
My reflection is realisation
A moment of clarity within this dream
I wonder how things would look ..
If I'd not been instructed to see them as they now appear
I wonder how this world would appear
If I'd not been programmed at all
Left to my own thoughts
What would I now see
Left to my own interpretations
What would it now be that I hear, touch, taste and smell?
For all of the senses are interpretations
Adaptations of the signals within the dream
Ways which the mind comprehends the wavelengths and frequencies within it
Methods of reality and relation which the interface invents ……
Casting my mind further afield
To wavelengths and dimensions beyond

Pondering what is out there
What is beyond
What is the cause of it all
Perhaps it is nothing
Perhaps it is nothing which divided
Created itself into polarities and planes
Dimensions and frequencies
To ponder in places like now …….

I guess I will never truly know
Not as this dreamer any how

All In My Own Mind

I am the eagle in my own sky
I am the spider and I have woven the web
I am the determined child building again the walls of the maze
I am the eyes which watch the corridors of the labyrinth

So all that is undertaken during the ‘day’ is so incidental

I gaze through the lenses into my mind scape
I connect with my own dreamer’s doll
.... and impress the task
I commit to the upgrading
... to the reprogramming
As one of the first
... at the head of the wave ...

I live parallel lives which have parallel lives
I am those momentary moments which are revealed in lucid moments
I am the air, the dust, the water
... everything I perceive in this my dream

This is my own mind
... and I comprehend all parts of it are parts of the hologram
That which shapes the distracted mortals I must interact with by ‘day’

I thus laugh at how the sheep jump to every compulsion
Their herd masters reckoning they have me under their control

I laugh for it is my mind and my dream which shapes their responses
They are unaware they are programmed by my mind how to react
How to think
... how to be
... within my perspective
... within the parameters of my awareness

And it is that interaction
... which shapes their own dream and their own perceptions

I know it is the strongest light which outweighs the darkness
I am thus the fear in their minds which inhibits their responses
Out there in no-man’s land I confuse with un-predictable reactions
I hold them all like the spell caster holds those under the spell
I flex and I twist the fibres
...and watch them jump like puppets on the strings ...

It is not confusing to I
It is but part of the dream to me
Something to bide my time with

Until the upgrade has been confirmed
...and the downgrade is complete.

Way To Change The Course

am witness to all those parts of me
To the intricate workings of mind
While still in the dream
It seems so real
But it is as we are taught ...
It could so easily be unreal
If obsession was to make it that way
I possess the instruction to unmake what is
To bring the playing card tower come crashing down
It takes one to try and to achieve
Distractions confused and still confuse
Wayward harmonies in my head
The program dictates I see the body
and I feel its form
But I know it isn’t real
I need to convince and to make it my obsession
To change
To bring to me what I desire
And become immune to the rogue DNA
The rampant separate selfishness which dreamers are made to feel
Are told is the real existence
Never told they dream
Told from early moments this is real
How can I change that course
By thinking as I am
As I am now
Maverick ....
20/3/2006

A Hand From 'The Other Side'

There was only myself and my wife in the house when this uncanny phenomena occurred. My wife had thoroughly cleaned the glass table upon which this hand print appeared on the UNDERSIDE of the table. There was nobody else in the house. Neither of our hands match this hand print.



The hand print had been made in some kind of greasy chalk-like substance which was not easily removed from the table.

All attempts by ourselves to deposit a hand print on the underside of the table resulted in failure. No print would stay longer than a few minutes, yet this handprint remained for hours and took quite an effort to remove.

It is absolute and undeniable proof of 'the other side' of 'other dimensions' and other frequencies.

It is the best evidence of photographic proof I have ever seen in over two decades of explorati

Make Or Break

This is a path of dire circumstance. A razor's edge. Blind faith is your only guide as you dictate the shape of your own reality. You must disregard the opinions of others and remain focussed solely on your own direction. Distractions line the slippery path - the tightrope between despair and ecstasy. It is easy to slip and fall.

The Magician is constantly The Fool. Blind and ignorant. Selfish and proud.

You never know if what you follow it true. There is nobody to tell you either way. For all around is opinion and unproven THEORY. Nothing is true. All could be delusion. You wander from high to low to deeper despair to manic suicidal depression. You seek the next high ...

Then an outside force overwhelms your senses. You receive undeniable proof. You are in bliss once more. The lapdog to the invisible power. Spreading the word. Then like a drug it fades and you find no substitute to produce that high. It fades into memory like a dream.

You drag hyperspace through all the fanciful and ridiculous. You seek others who've experienced the same.

You find nobody else. You feel alone.

Then shadows flit and float. Part manifestations out of the corner of your eye. Impressions of persons lost. It rekindles your faith. You know it is not lost.

Life this time is just make or break. You seek you true name as you know the birth name in this illusion is not the true you. At night you attempt to connect to that constant within. The point you know your consciousness resides.

It is little comfort to have wondrous real dreams with smell and touch and sound and thoughts. Cognitive thoughts in your mind during dreaming. Which makes you realise your dreams are not figments of imagination. They are as current and as real as the living now. They are real dramas when you are within them on another frequency.

Thereto you have a form and a consciousness. You have a theme. You have a name. But there you shape shift. Here you are constant. The scene is solid like cement. Here is the illusion. For thought is meant to shift and change its identity like the amoeba.

Hence my choice to be the Hermit. The purveyor of my own dream. I repel fame and fortune and thus in this reality I am the pauper. It makes it all a struggle. I repel identification and the lime light yet I know my art is powerful. Very powerful. Unique. I could make a name for myself with it.

But I have a huge fear. How to handle success. How to handle my ego which knows it is something. It will do something I will regret. That is my fear. Hence I create thought forms to repel the success I am meant to have.

The countless hundreds of souls who've experienced first hand my mediation ... my mediumship ... my messages ... would be the first to tell you the accuracy and the depth of my talent. I know there are thousands of testimonials for a book if I wished to write one.

I remain alone. I remain in sorrow. In personal torment. Here on this backwater island. I should be in the limelight.

Now I've forgotten how to get on that road I've been in the dark for so long.

Magic is how you make it. Magic makes how you are. Magic is you. It is the tool which you craft your reality. We are all unique dreamers plugged into a collective dreamscape. It really isnt the real life we think it is.

Nothing is cast in stone as surely as we are led to believe. It is only because we are made to believe something that the something is real. I believe my life is going nowhere and I am a nobody now. It is how my magic has been made to work on me for the last few decades.

Somehow I need to break that believing mould by disbelieving it. Somehow I must begin to believe I am to be famous and that my power will lead me to the dizzy heights I really want inside but which I am so scared of.

Someday ....

A Sigel Of Power & Purpose

A Sigil to stir those 'forgotten melodies'. To tweak the sub-conscious strings and disrupt the status quo of the dreamer.

Providing a conduit between the lower self (the dreamer) and the higher self (the player)

Sigil drawn by Matthew James 2005

The need for imagination and belief - the essential ingredients of magic - is essential with this sigil. Any sigil works on the unseen levels of consciousness. They need to be 'fired' with intention and their symbolism correctly visualised in order for the full effect to be felt ...

Mara Gimel - Camel Of The Mystic Sea

On the ancient structure the Traveller stands
Amid all the disarray
Spying all the smoke screen trails
All the delusions
All the glamours.

He exists within all the confusion
... feelings its insanity course through his veins
Panic fills his mind
... madness flares.

The earth is changing ... faster, faster now on a vibrant wheel
Base resonance affecting invented time
Sheep with tunnel vision tune in still to sport and wealth
Poverty stricken souls circumnavigate the earth
Wars and atrocity rock the walls of civilisation
Smoke screens and glamours
... the illusions the Qliptha use to blind the children ...

His vessel spins round and round in the maelstrom
Corrosion rots his keel
... ambition plummets to earth with broken wings
Depression induces misfire
... and plumes of insanity flow forth from his consciousness

He fails to see
... he fails to act ...
... he only reacts to it all ...
... and that is the contribution the Qliptha wish from he ...

Adding to the confusion
Scalding the white light with visions of grey acid
The surface of the mirror tarnished by lizard's claws
... the shadow's wish for the earth and her children.

Clearly now he treks the awful Abyss
... reaching close to his destination
Through the fog ... the Camel has cross the great ocean
... has sighted land ...

But the Qliptha on the wing cannot let it know that truth
... they send compass needles spinning into a vortex
Confusing directions ... trails within trails ...
Trials of temptation to lead it away from the truth.

Within the course of changes which rock the mother earth
Know the magnetic poles are to re-align
The vibration of the orb shall quicken
... to break free from machine time.

And ... at the same instance ...
... know the Camel shall cross the mystic sea
Connecting its lower self to its super conscious true self
Forming thus a conduit between those disconnected
... and those waiting on the outside ...

And know that the Qliptha shall attack this mortal man
... more than any other ...
For the travelling Camel is the lamb ...
... and the earth is the altar on which his flesh is seared by shadow
But his light will prevail despite all the instrusion
... despite the illusion
... despite the confusion ...

Rest assured if you are this child
You shall not be damned
Follow the path of the camel
Mara Gimel ... this is your life ...
You shall succeed in the end

Wanderer Between The Worlds

He wears the pure white gown of the priest, and tightly grips the fragile chalice of ritual.
Eyes shut tight, in concentration, on his lips the ancient words of invocation.
In his mind, his spirit walks a different world
... far from the world of the physical.
And the memories of the brutal slaying on the altar have left him now ... necessity
The sworn allegiance demands the sacrifice of the blue eyed blonde haired priest-girl
An outward display ... to give the power...
... to provide the doorway through which he steps.
But, he keeps silent, he knows more
... much more than the elders, those fools who demand.

For he knows the power of projection comes from within him
... and not as a result of the cull...
In private places he opposes the sacrifices
... and voices those words to the chosen few

He rejects the new mandates which demand the killing of the pure blood race ...
Beads of sweat ... fall from his brow
... for he too could become victim.
If his true heritage were known ... for he too is of the pure blood line ...
Hybrid spawn between earth bound man and stellar visitor - the gods the elders say

He is scornful in those precious places ... he rejects the new religion
... favouring the one of old
Without the new measures and public acts to amaze and mystify
... but he stays silent.

And permits the killings before his journeys into the over soul
... in search of what ...?
He does not yet know ... but he is close to discovery
... first he must unravel the glyphs of power
The ancient language given in teachings to be quoted in ritual ...

He must overcome the dreams and the visitations
... the urges of the voice of the air to succumb
He must master his fear of the shadows
... the sense that evil pervades in those cool places
He must prevent his mind’s eye from seeing lizard faces appear on the faces of the elders ...
For there is so much he still does not know
... and so much they too don’t know about he ...

Ahead ... as spirit, light, thought ... he spies the pathway beyond the incantation
The intended direction the ancient chanted mantra now leads him,
Powerless as a breath of air, as an essence of smoke he floats towards a silver mountainside
Catching sight of the glimmering waters below him, he is able to stop ...

He thus brings to a halt the momentum, and overcomes the compulsion of the thoughts,
The growing murmur of voices which he has never sensed before ...
Feeling threatened ... feeling pitched and pulled
... overtaken by an unknown identity,

He incants words of power of his own
... ones he found etched in stone in a secret place
Words which aid him in binding an impenetrable wall of crystal glass around him
Within that translucent cloak he now stands ... and begins the summoning of form

The idea of a body pervades around him, and the ‘thought form’ matrix of a man begins ...
With wings ... because it suits him to glide into the moonlight ahead of him ...
He has plenty of energy in reserve to undertake the task set by his mysterious masters ...
Before then he has a journey to make of his own ... one of much more importance

One that Melchisidek know will prove to him once and for all the existence of an elder race
A civilisation which existed long before their own
... contrary to anything the masters say ...
With ease he assumes complete control then of his thinking and quotes the ancient words
In the form and the expression laid out on the stone tablets he found in the cave

Immediately ... the sea and the cliffs are gone ... and he is transported elsewhere ...
On an expanse of golden sand he lies naked ... warm, gentle waters lap against his form
Gazing down, he is female and has long tumbling golden hair ...
Towards the sun he gazes and notes a slightly red orange hue ...
He stands and turns, seeing behind him two mighty stone towers towering above him
Towards him approaches a floating incandescent orb ... from the orb comes a murmur
Many, many voices all different but the telepathy of one ... the race he seeks
He knows this simply then and intuitively, reaching out to combine and understand
Sharing in that moment all the ancestral thoughts of their over-soul .....

Knowing then they had no need for name or separate identity
... all attuned to a oneness like no other
Wandering the orb of life to understand nature and prepare for the dark times to come
When they knew natural progression demanded separation .... borne out of curiosity

The naivety of their thoughts overcoming him,
they had no comprehension of what was to come
Their concept of ‘darkness’ being clouds hiding the sun,
his interpretation of ‘evil’ lost to them ....

Later, after the painful exfoliation from them
... he gazes once more at the form created by his mind ...
The ‘male’ depository which housed all the essence of the one ....
Their intention clear in his mind ... the re-enactment of the ancient ritual
... laid out in their records

The invocation of separation to induce their next evolutionary cycle
... thought form of man and woman
In the act of godlike union ... to sire the next generation
.... as it was written so it was done without sin ...

The memory of the golden sands fading then for Melchisidek
... returning then to the cliffs
The storm wind blowing through his form
... the moon gone, hidden now by clouds
The sea lost to the shadows ... the protection gone
... the compelling presence stronger now than he

Overcoming him ... recognising him .... realising the threat
... the knowledge he has within ...
Melchisidek aware then of a stone knife raised above his physical form, like a dream
Somewhere in his mind the horror of the crime
... his blood spilt, without sensation of pain
His pure white robes of priesthood stained by his own blood
... his form laid on the anvil ...

And the evil deed of the removal of his beating heart
... the ritual forever defiled ....
The memory of the overcoming of the priesthood
... to the realm of shadows lost in the annals of time

For Melchisidek there could be no returning to that world of man
... trapped was he in ritual
In invocation ... battling then with the force of shadow to remain free of corruption ...
Remembering the ancient words
... like a protective cloak the shield returned ...
Protecting he ... condemning he to wanderer between the worlds ...

An eternal voice then on the wind
... in the minds of mages through the history of man
A conscience for the good and the white ... protector of the truth and guide
Revealer of the ancient ways ... denouncer of the shadow and its blood thirsty ways ...
Coming again to the physical in times of dire need ......

In that moment of freedom, the doorway to the worlds swung open wide,
Melchisidek seeing then the truth and the intention of the ancient glyphs
Understanding shining bright like the first light of the sun
Smiling then ... he separated into infinite thoughts
... and pierced the membranes of all life

Providing all with the wisdom of that ancient race ... the founder race of man
... the kindly ones
And thus for as long as the invocation prevailed he would survive as guide ...
Until the time came the power abated and he could return back to whence he came

Choosing once more to return to teach of Atlantis and the coming of the voice of shadows
Coming to earth in an age blighted by the ghouls and demons ... formless perversions ...
Those dark ones which arrive first as voices in dreams and in shadowy places
... tempting men to provide blood
To permit the shadows to adopt forms to provide weakly man with power and greed and lust
Destroying then all memory of past, rebuilding history to suit their sickly needs ....

O’ man I have returned .... and I see the shadow has ye again ......

Friday, 9 January 2004

A Light In The East

The night is dark and still,
In the circles centre,
A fire removes the chill,
The grove has gathered for autumn,
That time is now here,
She now makes her presence felt by all.
With the light of the fire comes other signs,
The wind in the trees,
Felt by all of existence,
Around this sacred space,
The earth below, and, the gentle rain overhead,
All gathered as one to feel it together.

ALL ENTER IN PRECIOUS SILENCE,
WITHOUT A WORD THEY TREAD,
THE SACRED GROUND,
TOWARDS THE LIGHT IN THE EAST,
WITH RIGHT HAND RAISED IN GREETING,
SILENT MOUTHS SPEAK A SOLEMN PRAYER.

The light in the east,
Made by a single candles glare,
In the memory of hope and unity,
A remnant of better times in lives before,
Now seemingly gone forever,
But with trust and truth, to come again.
The festival then follows,
A time of celebration,
Then a time of recognition,
Of the next celestial season,
For all is in harmony,
All is oneness on the wheel of time.
For this the light in the east burns forever,
Now stronger,
Now much brighter than ever before,
For the light of truth shines,
And it burns so bright,
Know this now will never change.

Proctorial Essences

A LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS'S SIMPLE PRAYER OF PROTECTION


I call on my fellow brothers of the light..

Please protect me in my mortal room,
Please keep those harmful negative aspects from me,
Please keep cleansed my sacred space,
And let no harm befall me,
For I am pure of heart,
For I am the light of love,
So let me venture forth on high,
Without fear of darkness or of disharmony.

Thank you for granting me safe passage,
And for granting me my simple request......

Originally Written 22nd May 1995

New Age Scripts

And new lands will replace the old,
Waters of the earth cleansing the evil of the old,
And relics of old civilisations will appear,
In stark defiance of the lies spoken by the frightened men,
Those of mankind who cruelly rule the majority.

But know their cities of evil will drown,
As will their churches of darkness,
Gone to the wind,
Lost to the sea,
Swallowed up by the gaping jaws of the fire lions.
For the time is at hand,
Mankind thy society breaks down,
It is a terminal case,
It departs to make way for the new.

And Mr. Money man,
You won't be there,
For you are the cause of the evil,
As is you Mr. Politician,
For you fed the lies to the crowds,
And Mr Clergyman,
You are the servant of the chaos lords
Your lies down through the ages of man,
Has drawn Lucifer to you ..

Repent oh! misguided fools,
Be thy own judge and jury,
And executioner if need be,
Before you stands the promised land!
For no actions are a sin,
Whatever ye be ye reside in heaven.

I give to you now the NEW AGE,
Foolish man are you a brave man after all,
Will you admit to weakness?
For it was not your fault at all,
You knew no different,
Forgive yourself now,
And join the free thinking band that walks the new lands,

Discover now with they the truth,
For soon comes a oneness with all.
But first must come the rising seas,
The drowning of the many,
The leaking dam walls,
The earthquakes in the places of evil,
For the earth must cleanse itself of its negative aspects,
Thus mankind must be culled,
And those of disharmony unmade.

Not those of you who were victims,
But those who consciously plotted the chaos,
They are the ones who must begin again,
As the tiny amoeba that floats in the sea,
Or as the virus that is absorbed by the skin,
For they are deemed to have lost the love of creation,
Thus they must acquire that energy again,
So it is themselves that punish,
Not anything else,

So foolish man you are a victim,
You committed no crime,
Thus walk now the new land,
And let the universal positivity enter now thy mind.

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN 21ST MAY 1995

THEY

In ancient texts … the scribes were explicit in their lines,
Beware the lizards who will come among men … who shall appear as men
Who shall place themselves in positions of power … controlling the fate of man
Hiding in the shadows and behind their clever shrouds….

In the modern day … know this is so … the prophecy has been fulfilled ….
They are in the human society
… in every crack, in every vein of that shining diamond field
At every pitch and turn they dictate the pathway of man
...down from the light into the shadows
But know … they never show their true faces to the public arena of man,
Trusting few of the breed of mortals to witness their lizard scales …
Choosing to infest the spirits of contrived blood line hosts …
In order to remain attuned to the physical plane …

Know … that in truth … the mortal vibration is too high for them to sustain incarnation …
Their physical forms of a different vibrational signature
… almost the same but entirely different
Thus they send forth thoughts
… the voices of shadows as they were known in ages past …
To influence the decisions of man … casting illusion into the minds of the weak
… forcing them to act;
Act in the way of the shadows … a alien agenda to suit only the lizard race.
Bringing man on the brink of disaster
… lowering the vibrations of the earth and every human …

Thus permitting a doorway … a portal
… to open between the world of man and the world of shadows.
They have come through … they walk the earth
… shape-shifters with a ‘royal blood’ claim

The pure blood of man matching the serpent blood … the life force of the dragons …
The race within a race that has always secretly ruled man
… since the time of the end of Atlantis.
They hold all positions of power and rank on this earth
… and use their hosts as fodder and puppets,
To perpetuate their cause … their entire structure like the mighty pyramids of Khem …

Mankind at the base holding up their royalty at the very apex …

As it has always been … how they assume it shall always be …
For through food chains … and water supplies … and silver screens
... in deeds of violence and oppression,
They have generated apathy and ignorance within the world of man …
Mankind is too lethargic now to care or accept they are being deceived in this way.

Look now to the icons of the silver screen …
Are they not hosts and carriers of the lizard kin …
The lizard kin are shy to reveal themselves …
The icons are changing their appearance before your eyes
Except they hide it through the evolving norm of ‘plastic surgery’;
Thus their lizard features which are coming through …
the earth is lifting too high to sustain their veils;
And they have had to develop these surgical procedures
...to permit mankind to accept these alterations;
To agree to them being a fact of human life ….

Beware mankind they are now among you …
They learnt from Egypt never to show their true faces before the human people
For in Egypt they were virtually defeated
… resorted back to the shadows
But leaving the doctrines of ‘high magic’
...for curious knowledge seekers to try the rituals again
Willing the black and the shadow back onto the earth ….
Just as they had intended ….

For one cycle was completed …one of the many through the aeons of man
And there was always the risk mankind would never summon they again
But …mankind succumbed
… and now they bring in the next phase of their grande design
For the time is short … the ecosystem of their own world crumbles …
And they must weaken and overcome mankind soon
… in order to claim this world
Before the end of the next cycle … which is here and now
… for the crossing arrives
Their world … their home …

Lost Faces

Take a look around ... look at the souls around you
Who pass you in the streets ...
Who drift in and out of your life ...
As you pass from square to square

How many of their faces do you know
But you don’t know?
How many souls do you know
But you don’t know?

Faces of souls you’ve not met
But you know you know from somewhere
A vague ... prickly sensation
Lost faces in the crowd ...

You watch the silver screen
You read those tabloids of black and white
You muse over images in popular magazines
It’s the same there too ...

There are faces you know but don’t know
Lost faces staring back at you
No doubt they would feel the same as you
Share the same weird sensation ...

Lost faces
Perhaps ... you shared intimate passage once before
In a parallel existence
Or in a previous life ....

Lost faces
Eerie ... strange ... unexplainable phenomena
Haunting you ... everywhere you turn ...
Haunting you ... everywhere you look.

Souls appear familiar to you
You catch yourself staring
About to greet a stranger like a long lost friend
Lost faces ... perhaps one day it will be revealed ... why it is so.

Daath Visions

A spectre stands before me ... a menacing light blocking my path
The star fields fill the sky above me; their presence my guide
The intruder stands its ground; a shroud of black hides its features
Sparks of cruel black emanate from its staff ... as it stamps on the ground
The vibrations on the earth around me ... slow, deliberate and dehabilitating ...

Energies of the Qlippoth raised against me ... a furies storm ...
A black magician stands before me ... raising that evil against me
The primal world shells welded into a barrier of force .... to stop me
Menace and malice incarnate ... emanating from the staff of fury
I know the entity then ... a warlock ... one of he who cannot be named

Ever closer the corrosive clouds move towards me ... unearthly faces swirl there
Vibrations of un-love and un-compassion float towards me
Threatening to absorb me ... possess me ... dehumanise me
But I stand firm ... I raise imagery of demons ... around me the mirrors
I absorb my own qliptha from within ... merge it with my own essence

I become part of the cosmos around me ... shade of grey ... white and black combined
I visualise the scribe and recite a host of lines of power
I organise my thoughts and forget any sensations of fear I may have
Then ... as the cloud swoops over me ... to consume me ...
I throw out all my power in a wave ... a wave of white incandescence ...

The cloud is gone .... but the malice remains ... the warlock stands defiant
Preparing to raise another storm ... I walk closer and touch its arm
In that instance it issues a mighty howl ... for it sees what I see
It cannot comprehend the white light ... and the compassion I have for all things
Then it becomes absorbed by I ... and I am alone then ... free to go on my way

The path of silver and blue clear for me to resume my passage
The warlock now part of me ... for it’s external expression had been cast by I
For such is the essence of this place ... resonance of thoughts ....
Creations of all parts of self manifest here ... and the unwary are trapped
For few but the initiated are aware of the mechanisms of Daath ...

For it is here where all fears and hopes are held
All failings, all short comings to face before the glorious road of ascension
All things to be faced here compassionately ...
To wander then onwards ... further along this road
No doubt other furies shall manifest before me .... it is the way of this place

PRINCIPLES OF A SORCERER'S ART

PRINCIPLE 1

What exists within the macrocosm exists also within the microcosm. Whatever is generated by the mind will manifest itself in the physical world eventually.

PRINCIPLE 2

Patience - The allowance of passage for the spell to act

PRINCIPLE 3

Dissolution of human time - A concept by an explanation, nothing more. Past, present and future be one. The moment you be in now is all that matters. It is the focal point.

PRINCIPLE 4

Belief - The dissolution of doubt and all other negative energies which destroy.

PRINCIPLE 5

Trust - You do what the energy source implores implicitly.

PRINCIPLE 6

Compassion - Be compassionate NOT emotional. Emotions are the anvil.

PRINCIPLE 7

Curiosity - Always question the link.

PRINCIPLE 8

Nothingness - Accept you are but a channel for higher forces. You are nothing. You have no thoughts of your own.

PRINCIPLE 9

Simplicity - Keep yourself and your rules simple.

PRINCIPLE 10

Discipline - Keep your spell under strictest control AT ALL TIMES.

There must be no room for flaws or comebacks.

There MUST always be a verse cast into the ritual which covers for all strands and fibres which cannot have been comprehended - namely the provision for the unforeseen or that which cannot be controlled.

Always be prepared for the spell dissolving and all of its web returning on you.

Be warned - never weave anything which you wouldn’t like being woven around you

Saddleback, Cumbria by Matthew James

Saddleback, Cumbria, UK

An illustration by Matthew James

A P R I L 2 0 0 6

Welcome To Prison Earth

More of mankind’s freedom has been lost ...
The Elite impose more of their control
A deliberate action by the council of nine;
Full blood Belialians who have no value of human life
Who will stop at nothing to keep the common mortals under their tight restraints
The ropes have just been pulled even tighter ...

Mankind welcome to prison earth

As The Elite control you even more; forcing you along the stepping stones
Striking at the very heart of your consciousness;
Your safety has been threatened
Something has to be done you will cry’ we are no longer safe
Like saviours their agencies will come offering you solutions
Exactly what they wanted; you will react how they knew you would

More laws and more control freely given to their agents
All in the name of making this world a safer place
Can’t you see the terrorist acts are their way of imposing this control?
The collapsing twin towers their latest act of devilry

No nation is indeed safe
The Elite shall stop at nothing
Not now the first sacrifice is made
and that snowball has been made to roll
The knock on effects are the end of the world
The dawning of a new age of tyranny and total oppression
Martial law and extreme security
Big brother to watch you ALL at all times with its technology

Within your sanctuaries you will be viewed;
... all in the name of world wide security
Be warned you are on prison earth
The Belialians have total control
They now push toward their ultimate goal

Mankind you are innocent and unaware
That is their power; they have the element of surprise

Enter The Children Of The One; ambassadors of the light from now
Out of the shadows they come
With tale of truth which you will reject in the first instance;
... you will laugh and you will ridicule
But listen to what they have to say; what they speak of is true

They will reveal the deception and the control which is eons old
They will demand you follow their way
To come is a uprising; the likes of which the world has never seen
Know there are nine of the original Belialians
Nine demons against the rest of the world
But know their influence is strong
The powers of persuasion and manipulation perfected through the aeons
A compelling hard to refuse;
the way they have a one hundred million servants
... all answering to their call

But wait
The human consciousness will rise
Lifting the amnesia from behind human eyes
Soon their servants will realise
and join the growing band of those with the universe on its side

Before this occurs
Thirty five years of atrocities will occur
Blood shed; murder; destruction world wide
All before the face of the controlling factions are revealed
They who exist behind the governmental puppets mankind sees day to day
Watch out mankind
For surely this will come to pass

Battlefields Of Midgard

1
Cloaking white mists sweep the moor.
Eerie is the silence there,
No clanking of steel on steel,
No muffled dying voices,
NOTHING!
Only silence ...
A watery sun appears on the cloth.
The artist choosing an insipid yellow.
Out of the gloom, a solitary tree plays sentinel,
lifeless and leafless, bent double by gale force winds.
But still the silence and still nothing moves.
And then come distant sounds,
the splash of an oar, close to the shore beside the empty moor,
on the air, whispered voices.
The first line of assault has arrived.
The first light of dawn lifts the doom.
And with much complaint, the mists finally clear
revealing a desolate landscape, the soon to be battlefield.
The place where the chosen will be slain,
Soon it will come to pass and it will be a reality.

2
Sleepers in the lakeside village were unaware, as marauders crept into their tiny hamlet.
No warning came from the night sentries, who now lay dead in a pool of blood
throats cut deeply by attacker’s savage knives
Sadly, the slaughter had begun.
The temple was the first to go, brought to the ground by hellish flame
the priest, a kind and gentle man, decapitated by a mighty axe swung by a warrior
with a demonic mind, the leader of this savage band.
Mercenaries paid by ‘the house of god’ to purge the lands of Satan and his pagan ways
Mercenaries from another shore, to whom the slaughtering of innocents was a way of life.
Next to die by mindless deed were the young men of adolescence
so called vessels of the wrongs of Satan
most ne’er waking again on this land of fear
sleeping like lambs murdered by power mad wolves
nothing more than dismembered corpses now in a village of flames.
Then those who could fight, hopeless in their plight
defended their village against the marauding killers
gentle folk of lore and land were they
murdered because their ways contrasted another’s point of view.
Then after the killings, the savage and brutal raping of the women began.
Those who objected died by blood stained knife
willingly they struggled to be released
and those that lived were never the same again.
Taken by the savages to become harlots of another land.

3
And though the mists of time hides the faces of those guilty of the crime
the head of the church who made the decree that put thousands to death
at the hands of the butcher’s murderous knives
Know these crimes took place and they were the continuing atrocities man is famous for
And from on high the heavens look down but never criticise
for the guilty bear sentence for their crimes
not in human court; for they were ‘above’ the law on earth
nor by a god’s critical view
But by their own admission ...
Midgard faces another act in the murder plays
Another moorland awaits the cries of the dying
and though the killing toys may have changed in time
the end result is just the same
Man killed by man because their view contradicts another
I wonder if man will ever learn the lesson
and let fellow man life with contrasting views?
Mankind you need to live together
and ignore that insistent demon voice which demands you divide to rule
It is time you laid down your weapons
and life together in harmony
That way you may learn to move to a new station on the wheel

I am A Bard Of The Mysteries

Remembering slowly the tales of old
The ventures through the darkness wearing a different form of clay
Different parameters to the 'now'
Still being the same inside, unchanged.

And those times seem so distant, so far away, so separated from now
But the knowing within concedes they really exist
Forgotten melodies reaching out ... strange faces peering through the liquid mirror
The child waking in the night ... screaming ... crying through a nightmare
Distortions of those half remembered places ... disembodied recollections haunting the blind
Yet, the brainwashing satans of this world decry through their agencies ...
Claiming reincarnation is a lie ... I hallucinate ... I am dangerously delusional
The halls of the sanatoriums filled with the clay forms of the unfortunate ...
Those poor souls who glimpse further into the real past than the ministers of evil wish.

Remembered, the first light of a last day
The feel of death as the cold blade of steel runs a form of clay through
The light surrounds and the truth returns ...

I see a lone mountain ...
I hear my name being called, whispered by a familiar voice
I see the lake there and the township of a simple life beside
I recall the disaster I had run from, and the crossing of the deadly seas
A journey from a far distant land to this place of legend ...
To create a new life on a new shore ...

I gaze across to the heavenly expanse of blue
And see through a myriad of eyes that wondrous hazy sky ...
This earth ... this place I have returned to many, many times.

I ask why ... and then realise the thrill of life and its encompassing mysteries
I am a bard of the mysteries
A magician of the spoken word
I have the power to help them recall ...
I can send them soaring as the eagle,
I can plummet them to earth with a broken wing ... to die crushed on the screes of despair
I have that power and it comes from all my other lives ... all those other faces
It empowers me to remember and to help them remember.

Sigils For Recognition

This sigil represents a mystery person ? But who exactly is this person?

And what exactly is this Sigil for? What is its magical purpose? What energy does this make available on the astral?

So you've fire the sigil (through anger or the mind blink following an orgasm) and nothing is apparent from this sigil ... maybe its energy is too high for you ... the person this represents IS of a high vibration ...

Maybe then you could try this next one ... for clairvoyance ...

This sigil is POWERFUL. Full of MAGICAL POTENTIAL. It will either give a real bad headache after firing it ... or maybe lead to a good night's sleep ... but weeks or months later ... a dramatic new and more profound insight into life will ensue ...

These sigils and all the others in this Blog have been created by the far reaching imagination of a modern day sorcerer. They are not for the faint hearted. They link to a very high vibrational energy. One which does not conform to any of the pigeon holed awarenesses or abilities of the dogmatic New Age Movement.

Be warned!

I Don't Think So!

A microchipped population
I DON'T THINK SO
Mankind will waken from the rapture
In time to realise the grand work of the ages

All which is contrived and manufactured
That which is hidden beneath the ground
The abominations
The plans to cull the race of man
WILL BE DISCOVERED
WILL NOT REACH ITS FINAL HOUR

Know the dark brothers have no souls
They are mere creations of this dream
They do not exist beyond ...
Beyond the spirit world delusion they create for mankind
The structure they so carefully invented
The halls of reincarnation and karma ...
Those lies they spoke with their liquid voices ... to enchant ...

Beyond their structure ... eddy in the stream
Lies the truth ...
And that way is open now to mankind
To those with souls ...

Vibrations shift and lift
NO MATTER HOW HARD THEY TRY TO PREVENT
And though this world enters a time of darkness
Know the Black Magi of the Vatican ... The Jesuit Demons ...
Will not succeed ...

Know conduits of truth enter this plastic realm
And shatter the rapture which holds mankind in the lie
In the solid stagnant dream ...

Thoughts control, shape and determine this hologram
The DNA compels the dreamer to see and to hear and to react
With damaged RNA ... deliberately malfunctioned in the daily hell
By the dark hidden deeds of the Black Magi ...
The dreamer fails to see and to hear what it creats ...
Its freewill is so cruelly deceived ...

The time of awakening is at hand
True awakening
A personal thing
An inner truimph
Something which technology shall never prevent

Nothing shall be the same anymore
And those who hide within the flesh of mankind
Who are fearful of appearing as they truly are
Will cower before those who they have for centuries deceived ...

And those of the true lineage
Traced directly from the beginning
Those who have been forced into suppression by Belial's dominion
Will waken this realm to the truth ... to the stillness of non-polarity
And illusion will cease
As opposites and contrasts will rejoin ...
And the time of darkness and light will cease
As all waken from the dream
Back into the hands of themselves
Their true selves back in the dimensions of truth
From where the memories which shape this hologram truly reside
Creation here made from the image of a much greater creation ...
In the timeless ocean of stillness ....

Because It is Written

The Book Of Grimoires is adamant ...
Repeatedly it writes about the great return
But ... it fails to point out the reasons ...
... or the role ...
... or the effects ...
It warns of a threat from out of the filament
One of the Qlippoth ...
A mighty force of vehemence
Latching onto the knight ...
. gripping via an ancient Geas
.. haunting like a ghost
... sapping the knight of life force ...
It foretells of but one solution
Before the knight seeps away into the abyss
And becomes devoured by the beast ...
The knight must return to the place it finds the most mystery
He must sit with his back to the world
Deliberately forcing existence to reject him
He must then betray himself
And permit his screams to echo into the dimensions ...
That way the geas can be lifted ...
And the light will shine anew ...
A light in the darkness once more
Summoning the comet to cross the sky
Amid a mighty storm which comes from nowhere
And it is also said that despite the risen serpent
The knight will fail to find an illicit mate
Many will notice the light shining
But none will comply
For the rejection to dampen his spirit ...
So ancient terms and conditions can be met ...
For the Qliptha ... most be triumphant
In those devastating moments ... before the very end
When all hope is lost ...
The knight will triumph ...

It is written the knight must absorb the Qliptha
He must battle with that fragment of himself
. becoming most extreme evil in that instance ...
.. to find that tortured sprite within himself ...
... so the knight shall be cast adrift on the high seas of madness
.... lost for many days ...
It will only be the rapture of sound which will rouse him
For it is said he is the key ...
He is the resonance which can devour all
And create stillness where there was polarity
He can see through illusion
And provide the opposite force to what faces him
... only he has forgotten
,,, thus the shard must be his final test ...
So he can rise into the light of eternity in triumph
Resting then in the human vales
Without the regret or the impatience
Or the purpose which is lost to he ...
The Book Of Grimoires is adamant it must be so
For already the knight must feel the string being pulled
Feel the force upon his form ...
And sense a presence ...
Looming closer ...
Thus is written
And because it is written
It has become into existence
Therefore it will be so ....
For that is the power of the grimoires ....
Its terrible presence down through the ages
In all the many forms which the scribe does so choose
It is constant in his creation
It is alive from the beginning to the end
Creating a consciousness for itself
A power to survive
Existing within the consciousness of that soul
Alive as he is alive ....
It saw it was written
Therefore it knew it was so ...
It knew then what was meant by life ... it is so ... it wrote ...

Controlled By Waking Moments

Part i - Going Nowhere But Seemingly Somewhere
It’s all about waking attitude
How you feel in the moment
Certain feelings take centre stage
Many emotions are in the cauldron
Night demons lurk,
Eager to influence the waking day ...
Things are never as bad at they seem
It’s down to the attitude
Viewing the last entry in the book
In the chapter last contemplated
Deep in the reference library of the insane ...
A soul goes nowhere
There is no journey through life
It is a static moment
A dream of illusion
But the lurker has fooled the crowd
As the sheep held in rapture
Has created a life in a world around a theme
Which has all sparks completely fooled ...
Dwelling outside
Looking in
Separate to the scene
Awareness mystified with feelings
A body which is apparently it in the scene
Confusion over load
True location taken away in all the melee
The waking moment determines the bearing
A computer moving from stand by
Into the first program the operator loads into the RAM
Determining the attitude of the dreamer
Pointing the cursor on the pen which the lurker desires on a whim
To enrapture the sheep in that dangerous moment
Because the demon strikes when the spark least expects it
When its defences are at its lowest

Part ii - Mind Creations
...Thoughts ...
...Feelings ....
... it takes to be its own ...
... they are in its mind ...
... it must be its intention ...
... the sadness ... the depression ... the oppression ...
Can only be its own creation ... it cannot comprehend anything else

Part iii - Controlled By Waking Moments
It sees itself not as the flotsam in the electrical sea ...
It perceives its mass as the ocean liner ...
A gracious passage through this wondrous cruise ...
If told otherwise ... it will go into a state of cruel denial
Spitting feathers ... pointing an accusers hand ...
And why ... why react in this way?
Because it knows the voice of reason speaks the truth
The spark inside has lost its position ... it has been disconnected ...
It yearns to find its way out of this illusory storm.
In the whirlpool it swings round and round
A child with the discarded toy
It is not the place portrayed by an outside gaze
Once inside the interior of the electrical surge
A spark becomes the corybantic dreamer ... trapped under the lunatic moon
An essence composed in major composition of H2O ... an illusory liquid
Water the source of life ...and the means of major manipulation
Completely overrun by cycles of domination ...
The feeling builds from birth to death ...
Where there is still no escape ...
For what the spark thinks in cognitive processes within that time
Fooled into believing it is within that surge ... is that being it sees ...
It finds itself in another part of the surge on another frequency
Misbelievers tricked into one off existence ... form impressions of the beyond
Self fulfilling reality ... made from their thoughts ...
They end up in the hell they were fooled into thinking
And the lurker screams in rapture ... because the gaolers there ... are themselves
It is they who trap themselves ...
Straight from the start ...
From the minute they cross through the semi permeable membrane
And find themselves trapped in the surge
With their true locality and their true origin ... forgotten ...
Controlled by those waking moments ....

Restoring The Balance

ONE
Hazy morning mists aimlessly wander across a gravel shore
The lap of the waves sound loud in the silence of the new day
Distant mountains hang in a dreamer’s sky
Their peaks disguised by summer heat haze ...

TWO
The cry of a Moorhen shatters the still
A pair of timid rabbits scurry ... petrified, they leave behind the shore
Into the tall grass fringe ...
Close by the gnarled weathered roots of the ancient Oak
A resting place for countless travellers along the shore
Their passage evident with the glossy sheen of the roots
A young child sits ... beside the roots ... with his eyes fixed into space
Gazing into an inner place ... oblivious to the world around
A beaming smile on his face ... his heart pounding wildly ...

THREE
On a thermal high above the child ... a sea gull rises
Across the lake ... towards the mountains ... hunts the Hawk
Alerted by powerful forces abroad in the earth
Unease crosses the lake ... few will venture to the far end of the shore ...

In a distant town a Mage is scything ... here face shifting alarmingly
Liquid voices screaming in her mind ... ‘’danger - there is danger abroad’
The face of an old man manifests behind her in the instance
And a clammy hand closes around her neck ....

Out in the deep ocean a tsunami forms following a sudden tremor
Its powerful wave crashing across an uninhabited archipelago ....
Its presence undetected by human technology ...
The tremors sending shockwaves along a fault line to more significant places

In a nearby town to the lake ... a young housewife ends her sorry life
Two swift slashes across her wrists with Sheffield Steel
And her unseeing eyes are there to meet her husband later ...
His screams cries an echo of the young child’s screams at the lake ...

The wondrous winged faerie like being his eyes had so keenly been watching
Turned to a dark, evil bat like creature in the blink of an eye
The child’s life blood taken even before he could utter his final cry
His pale, translucent pathetic body found later .... beside the roots of the tree.

FOUR
In the marsh he sits, the Merlin ... contemplating his stones
A casting to summon the ancient forces ...
For chaos reaped madness in his life ... he felt the bite of the sword
As the Reaper demanded forfeit of his life ...
He was fortunate ... a misplaced foothold ... a tree held when he fell
A few bruises and cuts ... the only damage his wounded pride
But, during his time high above the shore ... he felt the unease ...
He read the signs in the surroundings ... his inner pagan was alerted ...

Within necessary time, within a desert shore ice will bring end to a cycle
For that which is hidden deep within the ice locked shore
Must be found in sight of the highest mountain of concern
It is eventual ... it is necessary ... it cannot be avoided.
Some secrets have to be revealed.

With ease, the learned one shall reach below into those hidden depths
And the mystery will be known ...
Fresh blooms ... shall grow within that icy field ...
And the end comes swiftly ... without warning
But, know it shall be the releasing of burden from friend to friend
In bloom, the healthy shoots grow to full maturity

And ... the ice fields melt to reveal a forgotten shore
From within those deepest places ... the shining man will appear
But shall be venomous towards the religion made in his name ...
In defiance ... in an attempt to re-balance the shifting polarities
Know nature will send down incessant rain
Days spent then within a sanctuary ... watching the outside ...
Trapped ... willing the sun to shine ...
But know the delay, shall be so necessary ... so needful ...

There is no evil ... only polarity ... all energy has no intention
It is cast into magick by the thinking of the Mage
Know the master reads the shores around him ...
And uses the opposite to that which is out of control

Thus as a result of his casting ... waves of compulsion ride the shore
Changes happen ... death will be afoot in those lands ...
In answer to the compelling on the voice of the wind ...
Be aware of this mechanism ... separate and do not play a part
Be observer ... rejoice for the land ... there is a harmonising undertaking
As forces balance that which has been knocked out of sync ...
It is as it is meant ... rise above the human and see from another viewpoint
Be archangel to the land and rejoice ... instead ...

FIVE
In desperation to find a lover ... in loneliness ... in defiance of his soliloquy
He drew the pentagram on the wooden floor ... he placed the symbols
But carelessly disregarded the mechanism and put them in the wrong order
He uttered the words of the ritual and cried out to the gods his intention ...

Send me the woman I desire
Send me the temptress of the flesh who will quell my fire
Send to me guilt and lust
And permit me to bleed dry those evils in my soul
To re-cleanse me for when my soul mate will be found
So I will be the perfect man for her ....

In the night she came .... the Succubus ...
Made with the appearance of the one he desired
But this was no soul of the flesh
This was an apostate made from his deepest fears
Sent to feast on his lonely soul
Bleeding him until he was empty
Taking him again and again ...
Until his life was expelled ...

SIX
Then it ceased
The blight was over
The visions received by the visionaries came to an end
The land returned back to its hazy wonder
Summer passing to autumn to cold winter
The creatures of the land ... of the hedgerow ... of the lake ... again safe
For the shadow which was on the land ... dissolved
And the spell of the Master forgotten ...
The balance was restored ....
Again ...

Omnipresent Adventurer

He grasps the crystal fragment, a close friend
An ancient form ... a hologram of the universal consciousness
He has awareness now ... again ...
Hearing the liquid voice within ... deep inside ...
Attuned to him ... part of his mind links to his friend
And sees ...

The cavern
Crystal waters ... cool ... crashing down the walls
A hint of green ... emerald green
Foliage ... behind which hidden
A doorway ... a passageway cast in darkness
Hidden ... concealed by magick
Vibrating swiftly too swiftly for most
But he sees since his mind matches the crystal
He moves through swiftly
Like the breeze within these netherworlds
He flows with fluid precision
Towards the human defile ... evidence of civilisation
From long ago ...
A place of symbols ... and statues ... and technology ...
He becomes a bubble of gas ... merging with the air ...
Fluid motion ... seeking the tiny cracks in the impenetrable wall
The stone door shut tight ... precise construction in ages past
He has not the understanding to open ....
Instead he flows with ease through a splinter in the frame
Beyond into an empty chamber ...
Two giant statues guard this place
With mind awareness of the crystal he gazes to the ceiling
And sees a tapestry in stone of constellations ...
Lit by an unknown source for eternity ...
His awareness spies two glittering gems ...
With the whim of a thought he presses stars
And watches a compartment slide silently ....
Once more as the air he floats through before it closes once more ....
Here he adopts human form
A young child ... a skinny youth ...
With ease he slides upwards through a chimney like passage ...
Until he resumes again the essence of air
Another panel ... hieroglyphic like images ...
But ... of a construction of a much earlier time ...
Again ... he finds a minuscule space through which to float ...
Passage through into a mighty chamber ...
With stone doors in every direction made for giant beings
Mighty tablets of stone ... altars and tables fill this mighty tomb ...
Here ... he sits ... and waits ... but he knows not what he is waiting for ....
Presently he spies a silvery orb approaching from the ceiling above
He realises then the ceiling in perhaps the night sky
Jet black and impenetrable ...
The orb looms closer and closer ... growing in size
A vessel of flight ... a spinning orb ...
Of gigantean size hovers above him
Yet how ... for he is invisible ... devoid of form
Merely a thought attached to his distant human mind ...

Child ...
Ye are omnipresent
Present in infinite places
Because ye are here with just a thought
Extending thy imagination
Does not make it any less than real

Child
Of ye we are aware
Ye occupy our space and our time ...
We welcome ye
We compel ye to spend time amongst us
For mutually we have so much to learn ...

Child
Thy will fail to comprehend
But ye already realise
Thy earth is but a dream
Here is the same
Another level in the confusion
And we like ye seek harmony
We venture in search of a realm free from polarity
The essence of the true consciousness we are seeking
Ye too are the same

Child
Know there is a rule created in this existence
All similar thoughts are in attraction
Thus it is we have met
And through thoughts ... and thinking
Can work in unison
For the common good ....
Because ... in truth we are all the same ... that is the way of true harmony ...

Albion Rest In Peace

What have they done to holy Albion?
Where has all the magic gone
There is nothing but anger there ...
All the young taught to be the aggressor
The land harnessed for killing ... for rage.
The mystical shores are no more
The dragon lines carrying evil now
The veils shut tight ...
All power is gone now
Nobody is safe any more ... it is now a killing ground.

I can’t go back there
I’ve left it too late
My art is a dangerous thing
My light would be sought
I would be hunted now as a heretic

The land is now without a guardian
Demons now walk the lands
Blood of the serpent is in their veins
It is now for the hunter
Children of the earth run and hide

You are the hunted now
They do not care for you
They wish for you to be slain
This is the will ... the way it is
They feed of fear and blood
They crave violence and disarray
It is just what they desire
You play straight into their hands

Your government in the hands of evil
Your church the house of the darkness
Your media mind controlling you
Pushing you further and further into machine consciousness
All is lost now
There is no hope anymore
Albion has been destroyed

The power of the ancients harnessed by evil
I feel the sickness and the revulsion from here
I know it is bad in Albion
I should stay away
I fear for the young
I fear for their souls
I hear their frightened voices in dreams
But I am powerless

There is no power now in the lay lines
It has all been drained away
And history is being rewritten
Nothing is the same anymore
I fear the Witchfynder General .,..
They again scour the land
In the name of god they say
But in truth they are ruled by evil
I should stay away ....

Mystic Sittings

After the mystic symbols are lain
the crystals positioned to manifest maximum power
the watcher placed to witness the ceremony
The fledgling sits outside the lines of vibrancy
Waiting for the mystic to shine ...
Strange symbols of unknown meanings lie on the table
The fledgling pensive of the unknown passage ahead
Nervousness and unease build naturally
Then the mystic makes his presence known
sitting opposite; half smiling; half knowing what to expect
Then it begins:
The choosing of nine mysterious symbols; Nordic Runes
Placed in a pattern of three lines of three; Three Enclosures
The mystic placing importance on the centre one
And with one look into the fledgling’s eyes he begins to speak
In a manner devoid of selfish self
Invoking the universal spirit to aid its servant
Words of power come forth which mesmerise and shock
Words of truth to fortify the mystic’`s reputation
Revealing the shadows which exist in the fledgling’s life
Bringing light to events hidden by design or un-intention
The fledgling amazed, surprised, shocked, upset, horrified
Indeed a wide range of emotions will be released in their mind
For the mystic is well renowned and trusted to for it to be so
Each symbol and their connection with the other eight are enacted
Their patterns outlined and the fated implications discussed
The mystic revealing the fledgling`s life before its eyes
and his connections with his inner self infused in the proceedings
A true magical connection; future events are usually revealed
The mystic humble and filled by the universal spirit
A hidden Child Of The One Law; cloaking its light
Teaching others the truth of unselfish love
and the need for personal re-programming
The mystic’‘s results will soon be, impressive
But even then after another fledgling leaves, pleased with the visions
The mystic works on his own psyche for vast improvement
Not satisfied with methods; leaving others to broadcast the accuracy
For he is false ego free; humble; unassuming
Carrying out his Universal work quietly
Picking up where he left off from previous paths without fear
Continuing the healing sittings to help save the world