THE DIALOGUES (Wrestling of the Spirit) From, 'The Elyon 2016'
Dialogue 1: Eyes That See & Weep God abandon me not and neither stand apart from me, for I dwell in the glooms of Gehenna, and there is no one to save me. Your light is a candle in the void. Your light is the love that lifts my life from sadness, and your compassion illuminates the inmost regions of my being. Alone in the darkness of the night there is none that hear my cries, and no one comes to comfort me in the midst of despairing contemplations. Then I look, reaching out to you with my mind and my soul. There you appear, against the dim light and shadows of the evening: a ring of blue, like the northern seas, encircling the heart of soft pink, warm gold, and intense white. I know then that I was never alone at all. I know then that your eyes are always upon me and that your ears are attentive to my calls. Your love has sustained me when all human love has turned to ashes, and your comfort has persisted when there was no hand of flesh to caress away my sorrow. When the mother who gave my body birth raged in her turmoil, when the father who spawned me vanished as a story told to toddlers, isolated and in emptiness I would weep and yearn for someone to save me. These many years later, still I live, and know that it is by your grace that I continue to exist, and by your protection that I have not fallen into the temptation of death’s seductive hymn. Unseen, a steadfast presence from my earliest days have you been. Silent and, yet, ever whispering to the spirit within. You have not ceased to speak, even if I could not hear it. Kind and wise the words, inaudible, invisible, heard as the fragments of songs and random voices passing in the streets. The words of men are a babble of non-sense, yet one word can you seize and send straight into my mind as if an arrow of realization. The songs of women, at times, seem a cacophony of contradiction; yet one phrase can you catch, and by it, bring order to my being in the midst of confusion. Often penniless, I have not starved. Often near death, I have not died. Often without bed or shelter, I have found rest on the cement and warmth on the pavement where none should have been. Undesirable, with little to give, still you brought to me a woman of love and faithfulness, a woman as unto Miriam of an elder time. Without strength or skill among men, you brought to me a strong right hand with the talents of humble Bezalel. No easy man have you made of me. No light task to bear my weight. No saintly and merciful work of perfection have I been in the sight of heaven or among the people of the earth. Yet you have remained faithful to me, even when I faltered in fealty to you, and have shared with me the secrets of a friend and a brother. You speak to me as if I am someone you have known from times immemorial. I cannot repay you for your love, Oh God, as it is beyond my comprehension how you can love one such as me, or bear so patiently with those that mock and speak arrogantly against you and your shining family. I can never adequately reflect your love to others, for I am as a flawed mirror and a cracked lens, and yet, still you love and care for me as a true parent for an only child. Mankind does not know, nor can they understand, and I cannot make them grasp what I myself cannot fathom, not now, nor in ten thousand lifetimes hereafter. The mystery of your grace is more than any man or woman can trace, and, when balanced against your holy rage, an effort of madness to harmonize with human reason. How can one man explain to another, invisible and unheard conversations with the Maker, or prove visions of the sacred, when no human witness was there to give testament to it? I kneel and I plead for that which you have given me freely, and I fear losing what cannot be taken or lost by any means. The infidels say to me, “There is no God! You pray only to yourself. Delusion is your path.” My kinsmen say, “You're a dreamer or you are deceived.” And those who call you their God, according to elder revelations, have said many times, “He is evil, a prophet of dark imaginings!” So, I turn to you, my Master, and I present my case: “God, no one listens, all turn away. Even those who knew me as a child think me insane. If only I knew that the voice I hear in the stillness of my prayers, and the hand that writes with my very own hand, are yours; if only I could prove it to them and too myself.” Intently I listen, and your reply is confident and unmoved, over and over it is the same from the beginning: “Maintain your ways before me. Do not fear the enemy by day or the foe by night. Stand and run your race until the end, and then shall you know the fullness of your task and see with your own eyes the fruits of your labors among men.” “But Lord," I say, “who will believe me without proof? Where is my burning bush or my staff of serpents? I am imperfect, afraid, afflicted, and lowly among men. Who will take seriously one such as I am?” Calmly, unmoved by my concerns, you respond: “The Word is sufficient for you, my grace will uphold you, and another shall I choose to speak for what you have written on heaven’s behalf.” So, I mourn my fate, even as I am grateful for my destiny in you, Oh God my sanctuary. For if I can survive the trials of fire, born of man’s hatred, and if I can obtain the promise of not returning to this prison of the spirit again, then eternity and realized dreams await me. By my love for you, and for hope in you, I march onward as a soldier who has already marched too far, my feet heavy beneath me, and my heart heavier still within me. Can an evil spirit serve you, Oh God? Surely, I am counted among the wicked and the weak. Can a sinner be given the anointing of a saint? For surely, I am no better than those you hold in contempt for their willful ignorance. All my life I have fled my demons, and all my days I have sought only to hide from the human race. Since the days when my mother would read to me from the stories of the Bible, I have watched the skies and I have prayed for an end to these times, pining for the coming of judgment and salvation. From my boyhood I spoke to you, and you did not answer me, not in ways that a boy could perceive or fathom. Only with maturity, at last a reply, to one of myriad questions on my mind, and so began our dialogue in this life. Yet, when at last you answered, you gave me a message that I could not at first grasp and now find that almost no one is ready or willing to accept. Oh God, how bitter a blessing, how blessed a curse, and how grim the splendor of your responses. Though I am pleased to have them, yet am I called to share them, and the return of the Old One of Abraham none seem to welcome or consider. Truth many pursue but cannot believe when faced with it. Truth is the angel that you have sent, the mask you wear is the spirit of it; but if the people of this age consider it a bundle of lies, what then is my purpose for being here at this time? Why can I not just fly away and return to the realms of the mind? In your wisdom, beyond argument, you reply: “If even one soul among men or among the fallen repents, embraces the judgment and reaches for me in my highest heaven, it is all worth it, and the price you pay is as pennies for a kingdom in comparison.” Truly, my God, you are my God, and there is no other for me, because you answer my petty questions and bear patiently with my relentless whining. Who but God could love and tolerate me so faithfully, despite my numerous failings? So into my weak and foolish hands the Tablet of Fate is given, the Book of Heaven and the Book of Earth into my care are placed. I think, “God must be mad to entrust such truths to someone like me!” And there you are, my beloved friend and ever-present companion to answer me in that Oh so very blunt and absolute way: “I will trust whom I will. I do as I desire. No man or angel shall dictate to me whom I may anoint as a servant or as a son, nor will anyone tell me in whom I may confide. It is my prerogative to do as I will do, and it is for my creations to accept my edicts, and bend or be broken to my purposes. I give to all the freedom to choose wisdom or foolishness.” So, I stand, Oh God, before you, Oh Maker of the Heavens and the Earths, to deliver your judgments and your plans to humanity here below, and in death I shall deliver them to the Powers above, before I take my seat in the mansion that you have built for me since times unremembered. You are my God, and there is no other, but for those pretenders and surrogates, who are as gods to those who cannot accept the One, Oh Spirit of the Infinite, just as you are. I delight, Oh God, in your judgments, for they are just, and they are true. The nations tremble and seek to save themselves from the punishments that they have wrought upon themselves, not by petty sins, but by willful rebellion against your existence, and by making no sincere effort to live according to your purposes. In their foolishness they have filled the world with wickedness, abominations that cannot easily be numbered. Hidden violence and secret pacts, unseen motives, and slithering tactics. They have become lovers of what is evil and call it good. They have become mockers of the good and call it evil. They have hastened to kneel before those who tickle their ears with the lies that they anxiously yearn to hear. They have hurried to gather themselves around those who are ashamed of you and unto those who excuse away your judgments and commandments of old, as being born of times and peoples of ignorance now gone. But I shall praise you, Oh God of Eternal Worlds, for you have loved me when devils and peoples have regarded me with disdain, and you have given me life eternal through my love for you and by your grace. Who is like unto you, Oh God, who raises the lowly and brings down the proud and the haughty? Who can forever escape the reality of your anger, when escape from you is a road to nullification? Your faithful angels in heaven I count as brothers and sisters, and your faithful spirits of the earth I count as heroic kinsmen. The winds blow, the foundations are torn asunder; the buildings sway, and even the churches are swept into rubble. The ground shakes and the stones are shattered. The seas rise and plumes of smoke ascend on the horizon. Ferocious beasts, that masquerade as human beings, wearing the faces of mortals, doing terrible things to men and women. Locusts with the faces of men, as the barbarian hordes of wilderness lands, swarm across the face of the earth, to devour anyone that stands between them and their insatiable need for sin. None arise who can stop them or has the will to confront the rampagers in the throes of their fury. The prisons are filled not with the innocent, but with the vile and the vicious, fed better than the common man, allowed to violate every law and code of decency that is convenient to transgress, and unleashed daily upon unsuspecting peoples. The hopes of the faithful are dashed, the promises of the preachers prove meaningless, the time of rapture is always near and never arrives, and, all the while, the givers of false visions grow fat off the desperate dreams of the sincere and the patient. Yet, Oh God, you are watching and listening, as your angels unleash the four winds, and the Euphrates is dried up to drain the marshes. The Kings of the East prepare year after year, for that day when the lands of prophets and temples shall fall beneath their boot heels, and when the birthplace of your religions shall be eradicated for what they believe to be the common good of humanity and the earth. A pit is dug and the unwary fall into it. The snare is sprung by the foolish among men. The arrows fly and the walls crumble, the foundations are laid bear, and no one cares or considers your hand in such matters, even as the fires burn unchecked and the perverse march proudly in the public square within the glare. Sacrifices mount in the millions, their corpses cannibalized by vanity and the dalliances of science. The unborn, ripped from wombs of fornication, heap to the heavens, more numerous than the offerings of the Baals in so-called darker ages. The crops are washed away, and the fields are despoiled, the children are caught in whirlwinds of devastation, entire towns are consumed in fire, the homes of the poor sink beneath rushing waters. Oil and wine flow freely. Who can afford such luxuries, but those who profit from the misery of the earth and humanity? The innocent is slain, the meek are butchered, mother and child embrace and are consumed together. Fathers die in endless strife, while the Sons of Moloch slay Sons of Mammon, and the Daughters of Babylon are raped by brotherhoods of madness. Ceaseless war engulfs the world, cities collapse, and cities drown, and all the while the wealthy ride on country lanes filled with pride, enjoying their bicycles, their jogging, their play; lounging in mansions of greed and vice, while everyone else struggles just to survive. Over taxes and possessions, the merchants’ bicker, fattened by blood and smoldering ashes, every leader a devil masked as an idealist, and justice goes missing amidst the ruins of Babel. Yet the discerning one sees, the watcher knows, the writing is on the wall, and Babylon is doomed to fall. Is this a letter or a prayer? I speak my heart unto you and my lament is made known to heaven, placed before your throne, Oh beloved Sovereign of Eternity. I am not the judge. I am not the decision maker. You sent me to put your judgment into the hands of the Powers of the Sky and the Rulers of the Earth, and yet you made me a person that they are unlikely to listen to. This world is better off dead! These people never GET IT! They are deaf, blind, and dumb. I am so weary of speaking to them, century after century, and millennium after millennium. Hated, despised, spat upon, beaten down, cast out to dwell among the homeless, my body thrown onto the garbage pit to be burned as so much rubbish. They do not care what you think, what you want, or what you say to them. They will never really change. They have turned the Word into excuses for terror and horror. They call you God, and they hate you for it. They sing hymns and fill the world with blasphemy and sin. They use Jesus, your best and brightest star, as a permission slip to skip their lessons and do whatever they want among the vermin. “To hell with you and your servants, if you do not like it!" They seem to be saying to your very face, each and every day. Why have your prophets not been given the reigns of nations? Why have your apostles not conquered with the sword and with flame? Why have you not allowed us to take the rod to these spoiled little brats, who always ask for more before giving thanks for what they have, and break to pieces all you have given them beforehand? Your saints and martyrs, your angels and your archangels all plead for your intervention. Let your sword strike the hour! Let your cloak darken the sun! Let your fierce anger soak the moon in blood! God, my God, unleash those bound in the Abyss and force the arrogant to their knees before your edicts! God loose the Angels of Doom and teach these children to obey you at last or wipe them away forever and ever! God my rage is not at thee but is kindled against the injustices of these days and the haughtiness of those that mock and scoff at the Words of the Most Holy. Yet, in my despair and anguish, you speak with clarity: “Mankind is a child race. They are reborn generation after generation, and cannot recall the lessons of the last, and so I re-teach them age after age.” But God, the rod has been spared and the children go astray! And you say: “I am the judge! Not you, Oh man least perfect, though favored among men.” My eyes downcast, I will bend my knees, my anger humbled by my imperfection, and I will accept your judgment and your patience. For with me you have been more patient than I deserve, so what can I say against humankind? “I am the One, and there is no other before me. Who knows my heart or mind?" "But fear not, Little One. For I have seen, and I have heard the iniquities of men, and I will not contend with man’s spirit forever,” you reply in comfort and reassurance. “Give them my warning and my instructions and leave it to my angels among men to deliver the Word. If the Kings and Princes above and below accept and seek to right their wrongs, so be it, and so much the better. If not, rest in the sure knowledge that not a human lifetime shall pass before the judgment is carried forth, a thousand years of slow death shall begin.” Wise and true, Oh God, you are my rock, and your rock is Divine Love. I will endeavor to do as you have spoken, and I will not be turned back, even should the entire world despise me for the Gospel of the Kingdom. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 2: Judgment & Patience The sun rises over the earth and the earth is renewed in your presence, Oh God of Eternal Life and True Death. The breeze whispers to me your names with the tongues of leaves and blades of grass. The chipmunks scurry about, as a wiry cat eyes them from the cover of the bushes nearby. The soil is damp and the eaves drip with freshly fallen rain, as the dew of the night clings to every green thing and the mist of the pre-dawn dissipates in the brilliance of morning rays. I have never seen such colors in the sky! Bluest blue, the clouds as rainbows of fire, the heavens opened wide as if filling the entire void. A child’s laughter woke me. Memories were stirred of a realm far from this place in space and time. Oh, to see them laugh again, the perpetual children, ever at play in Elysium’s glades, hide and seek among the eternal trees, with their leaves aflame though never burnt by the blaze. Tell me, Oh God, of those places recalled in glimpses as the sight of hummingbirds flitting from view before I can clearly behold their antics. “I behold them still," you reply in knowing. "Always are those children before me, son of heaven dwelling in the wilderness of humanity. Time is without meaning for the children of Joy’s Aeon, for they play beneath the sky of revealing. Day and night are nothing, in that realm of eternal frolic and innocence. The colors of the earth are as black and white in comparison, and surely they remember not that place of limits where you, little one, now exist." "There is nearly no way to face eternity as an adult, stogy and stiff, filled with guilt and pain. Only in play, only in laughter, only in the adventure of unending exploration and mystery, only in a childlike state of mind and spirit can immortality be experienced, endured and sustained without insanity's fate." "You see Jesus as a somber, serious, and sorrowful being. I see him at this very moment, enjoying games and telling jokes with his apostles, his friends. With Mary Magdalene, his immortal bride, he loves to walk in the gardens of paradise. After all these centuries of man, still they together cuddle and flirt as newlyweds. He enjoys holding feasts for his closest companions and every heavenly animal is his beloved pet. He hears the prayers of people who are sincere, and love flows from Me, through him, to them, and that is always our answer to their requests for the petty things of the earth. Only when they pray for the things of heaven does Jesus pause to give an in-depth answer, which few of the questioners ever comprehend.” Honor fills me and pride in the Lord my God emboldens my being. For whom am I that you would trust me with such insights and grant unto me such privileged knowledge? Truly I am no one of great account. Yet your reasoning is such, that this is the reason why you grant me access to your secret things. How wonderful are you, Great Spirit of Creation and Destruction, for you regard the poor in spirit and the downcast among men as worthy of your confidences and are not a respecter of human wealth and power. Yet you educate me always, when my words are foolishness, or when an assumption is flawed, saying: “I offer my confidences to everyone, great and small, on high and in the depths below, rich and poor alike, there is no difference in my eyes. I no more favor the weak than I do the mighty, neither do I speak only to the ignorant and not to the learned also. Rather, it is simply human nature that the lowly and the afflicted listen more carefully and are freed from worldly concerns enough to seek me out in a more personal way." "Great human learning often deceives, so that learned men and women think that they know more than anyone else, or even more than I, and so they do not call out for understanding. Great human power can cultivate a perspective of denying any greater power. Great wealth requires great effort to manage and fills a person’s life with many distractions. Great physical prowess and material skill fosters an attitude of self-reliance and can cause a person to believe that they have no need of Me at all. So it is that I may seem to favor the weak and the downtrodden among humanity, but indeed, it is they who favor Me." "So, all have access, but few seek that connection. All can hear the calling, but most choose to ignore it.” Your wisdom is beyond me and your understanding is from outside of the human condition. Forgive my assumptions and thank you for broadening my vantage. Comfort is found in your presence, Oh God, and within your words there is hope when this world’s journey is completed. When you are near to me the fear of the grave is as a shadow melting away before the rising sun, and when you speak, even in rebuke, I feel lifted and contented within my heart and mind. You give to me the peace of eternal life, the comfort of unending being, so that death has become a destination of delight, even as life in this world of illusions has become more difficult with the knowledge and vision of perpetual bliss. But God says unto me calmly and with the greater vantage: “The land of Joy is but one eternity, and it is not the one unto which you shall sail, at the last breath where the Wind of Spirit uplifts. For your distant shore is found within an eternity where fables, myths, and fictions are manifested, the Aeon of creation, tri-balanced truth, and real dreaming, in which the three-fold Spirit of Truth reigns as the master of a realized universal vision. A very different destiny, yet for your soul it is the best of all possible mansions and a kingdom where you shall not weary or grow discontented." "However, no safe-passage from my servant Uriel, your star, can you expect, in crossing the vastness of the infinite ocean of light and darkness, or in navigating the mazes of the neural paths of the trans-universal, unless your contract with me is completed in the current cycle of incarnation. Finish your appointed tasks, for it is the price that must be paid to the ferryman of the worlds, and surely you shall not see death or amnesia again.” I cannot but smile, Oh Spirit of the Eternal Breath and Master of Kingdoms beyond number. For my burden is light and my inheritance is great, by compare with many that have come before me. “Your burden has been born for many lifetimes. Death and amnesia has been endured over and over for the reward that you seek. Your work is of no small consequence and its hope for the earth and mankind is of no little vision or portent. Your enemies are numbered in the billions, even if they know it not yet, and you will be blasphemed and despised by multitudes for many generations to come—perhaps even unto the end of the earth itself." "Decades will come and go before you are remembered with respect, and this may never come to pass at all, if mankind does not choose to repent, or if a nation and a leader of men does not will achieve this last twinkling of hope, before the closing of the gates of heaven." "Ragnarök approaches, the twilight of the pretender gods and of their demonic offspring (the Nephilim race of Homo-Sapiens), when the seven archangels shall depart from the earth and close the doors behind them. If mankind continues to choose the ways of the fallen, instead of the ways of the ascendant, their destiny is doom, and for a thousand-year extinction shall consume them, the earth ever more a living hell, until only their ghosts remain to haunt the ruins of their lost world." "The year 2012 is the end of the seven years and marks the beginning of the 120 years, or five generations of the Era of the Sentencing. Then I shall turn my attentions elsewhere, if no nation has repented. I will waste no more time, suffering, or effort upon mankind after the appointed hour—but the day of the earth’s final end shall remain unspoken. Only if Christ were to come and die again, would the gates open once more into heaven’s potential, and such a price is too much to bear twice for the same species." Your work, in Immanuel, is my final offer of amnesty to humanity, and the choice is for mankind to make freely—to fight for ascension or descend into the abyss of living death.” May it be just as you have spoken, Oh Emperor of Worlds, and may it be your word and not my own. It is your call and your judgment forever. It is but for me to serve at your good pleasure. May you grant me the strength to play my part in your plan and see it through unto the end of my road within you. In the voice of truth, you speak again to close this present dialogue between us: “What you bind upon the earth is bound in heaven, and what you loose upon the earth is loosed in heaven. The Prince of the Seven Stars has made this judgment and by it I shall abide. For the Lamb has always born my patience with mankind and has done its best to carry out my will for the earth and its nations." "For one righteous man, Sodom would’ve been spared. For the sake of one, shall the entire world be spared? For one kingdom of righteousness among the many nations of rebellion, and the one shall fill the whole earth by my love and power.” My God is the One God! Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 3: Hypocrites & Counterfeit Christs Those whom I love have betrayed and abandoned me, they have slandered me for their own glory’s sake and they have spoken lies to gain attention and friendship from those who hate me. Those who declared their love for me, but then turned away in bitterness (because they could not face the truth of themselves), now seek the destruction of those who love me in faithfulness. Even our own families have spoken ill against you and against our devotions unto you, believing us misguided and far too zealous for the Lord. The enemy surrounds us, boasting of the violence that they yearn to do, for cause of our love for each other and for you. They go forth in wrath, to bring about our downfall, working to take away our jobs and our dwelling, because of seeking you too passionately and speaking of you too freely. Our neighbors despise and avoid us, as if we carry a disease, and say vicious things against us, things that my mind cannot comprehend. They bring charges against us that cause agony to my very spirit. None will believe us innocent, and none will consider that the evil spoken is untrue and said for reason of revenge—for we are strange and frightening to them, because we despise what they worship and seek what they only give lip service to. It is nearly a crime among my people to seek you, to place you at the center of life, to speak of you all day and sing praises unto you in the tongues of angels by evening. I am treated as if I am evil, for embracing your holy love and your righteous rage, and for admiring your deeds and names of an ancient age. I am thought of as contrary, for wanting to walk in the footsteps of your true prophets and those who gave to men the very religions that humans claim to believe in. I am treated as an alien resident or as a foreigner in my own land, for wanting all people to love and seek you with their whole heart, mind, and being. Was this not the commandment of Jesus and your messengers in days long forgotten? They wave the Bible in one hand and despise those who actually wish to live in the ways of the earliest Christians. They are ashamed of your names and your deeds of long ago. They admire the violent among men and hate the righteous judgments of your divine sovereignty. They call themselves your ministers, but do not speak out against the blatant violation of your revealed standards, and by their silence they give permission to every perversion and allow your grace to become a license for sin. They go to the churches and synagogues, and then go forth and commit adultery, fornication, drugs abuse, and slander, and treat the earth as if it is their personal garbage pit; and then go back to the church or synagogue with a clear conscience. I have heard people say in various ways, “I love Jesus,” with one breath. Then say in the next, “I love getting high, getting drunk, going to bars, having sex as often as I can, and will take whatever I can get." Then they add confidently, “By the grace of Jesus Christ I can do what I want and will wear a crown in heaven.” How is this possible? Why would these wicked ones go to heaven when they hate your righteous reign and see no justice in your true faces? And you answer me, and you say: “Why do you fret, little one? Did these same not welcome Jesus with shouts of “Hosanna,” and then cry out, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” "Did not these same spirits cheer in the stands of the arenas of Rome, as lions ate Christians; and did they not drink a toast to Nero in his gardens, lit by the faithful who were being used as human torches?" "Did these same souls not scream for the blood of the apostles and the butchery of the prophets? Did they not fill the ranks of the armies that marched against Muhammad? Did they not help the Roman authorities to round up Christians? Or did they not aid the Apostate Church of Rome in hunting down and destroying the Cathars and the Arians?" "Did these same not praise the Inquisitors as they went about their evil persecutions of Jews and Gnostics, and were they not counted among the Germans who sought to annihilate the Jews during World War II?" "Did these same not mock Jesus, as he bore his cross to the Hill of the Skull?" "Have you not been told of the Counterfeit Christ, who tells people what they want to hear and gives to mankind countless counterfeit gospels?" "Do you not understand, my little calf of heaven, that the anti-christ spirits have always been among men, and that the power of the Apostate and the Jezebel have perverted the messages of the Spirit of God, again and again? Do you not grasp that this is the very reason for the trial, the judgment, and now the sentencing of the human species, their case argued in the courts of aerial places since the time of Akhenaton? The Prosecutor is winning, and the defense has less and less support to stand against the call for mankind’s end.” "Is this not the very reason why you are sent to teach them and present unto them the verdict? Those who accept it, throw themselves upon the mercy of the court, and seek reformation will be spared the worst of it. Those who reject it, throw it out with the trash, and seek to continue as they wish, will be marked by the Beast, and cut off forever." "Endure patiently, O spotted lamb, for the time is but a little longer, and soon you shall be lifted up on the wings of your angel and carried to a distant Aeon." Blessed are your names of old and new, and glory be unto your just and true decisions, Oh God my refuge and my strength. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 4: Fate of the Wicked The wicked prosper and the innocent are trampled underfoot. The godless go about their materialistic lives cheerfully unaware and happily ignorant, and feel no need to seek, ask, or knock. The mockers mock, and the arrogant do arrogantly, without guilt or the least bit of shame. The worshipers of demons and followers of devils rejoice in their knowledge of the forbidden and revel in the shock and fear that they inspire in the meek and the weak minded. The sorcerers master manipulation and apologize not for their skill in the arts of deception and betrayal. The Daughters of Babylon giggle at the tears of the men that they have demeaned, boastfully delighting in the seduction of maidens and the corruption of virgins, and proudly declare their rights to sacrifice the unborn. Parasites feed on the living carcass of the Beast and devour the fruits of earth and humanity, even while they cry out for more, before thanking anyone for what they have already taken with the ploy of sympathy. The more they get, the more they demand, and the more you give, the more they complain. Their appetites cannot be appeased. Living off the government teat and the generosity of the sweet, with a meth pipe in one hand and a liquor bottle in the other, while their babies scream for care, and the systems of support crack beneath the weight of so many vampires. How dare anyone demand from them a cent in exchange for shelter, ask a dime in exchange for food, or require a day’s labor for a lifetime of receiving charity. They despoil their habitations and then complain that they live in a ruin. They abuse the generous and then complain that people will not lift them from the quicksand. They deceive and then place the blame on those that are honest. They mock and rebel against heaven, and then angrily shout at God for allowing them to suffer. Not having enough change, from cashing in food stamps for cigarettes, or to buying marijuana, is considered a just reason for them to curse the Deity. I watch and I see the masses flood across the boundaries and despise the nations where they come to feed. As locusts brought by hot winds, bent on devouring the wealth of the people, they hate and protest patriots that try to rid the land of the plague. I listen and I hear the promises of the mighty and the vague solutions of the idealistic and wait year after year to see if anything will come of things spoken to get elected. The decades have passed, and nothing is apparently different. I behold the preachers and the priests, defaming the sublime names, and bringing the Seven Ways into disrepute, and wonder how they escape judgment from century to century. Where is the outrage of the faithful or the vengeance of heaven’s angels? Oh God, beloved and all seeing, please explain these mysteries to me and help me to understand this apparent lack of justice within the creation? “Oh, son of Dur-An-Ki, is not the answer plain, is not the meaning clearly seen?" "The ways of the wicked bring them to nothing. The road of the user is clearly laid down before them. The parasite is a bane unto itself and cursed is their state of being." "What awaits such souls as these of which you speak, at the end of their days?" "The pit that the rebellious dig is their own prison, and their own destiny is the grave—Gehenna is where the garbage inevitably takes its place. The land of deep shadows and dark light opens its mouth to receive the rats and the cockroaches that think themselves human.” "Is not being stripped of all memories and left the hollow shell of a soul, devoid of the spark of the spirit, enough punishment? Is not being returned again into the same state of self-debasement more terrible than flames? To burn in the abyss of one’s own nature forever, is this not a just reward chosen by freewill itself?" "Patience, my little one, for the children of the Fallen are eaten whole, and the pits spit back into the world to bring forth more rotten fruits for the devils of the dream realms. The dirty sheep are sent into the fields to grow more unclean wool, only to be sheared of it in death and returned to grow more experiences for their unseen and unknown masters." "Be not anxious for wrath and quick to condemn, for the villain you execute today will haunt the living a while longer, and then return to the world to repeat the same acts again. The Vanities are ever writing the next chapter in their tales of criminal adventure. The show must go on and they have no intention of putting a stop to their favorite entertainment, witnessed in the arenas of human drama.” "You must defeat the Vanities by making it impossible for a re-born soul to escape being reincarnated into a household that brings reform, or into the wilderness where they may only harm their own.” "Devils are reluctant to send one of their puppets into a home that is sanctified unto the Truth, for they do not wish their spirit children to be taught to turn away and seek salvation from Me (rather than from the vile).” "So let go of your anger, little scribe of the divine, for the doom of the damned is pre-determined and they are allowed years and lifetimes among mankind, in hopes of bringing them to repentance.” "Yet my patience is not as infinite as you presume, and even as the choices of each sentient being determine their individual outcomes, so the choices of the human collective are determining the future of the species.” Your patience is wise, Oh Lord of Holiness! Your eyes run to-and-fro throughout the earth, and nothing is missed or hidden from them, Oh God of True Justice. How humbling is your genius and how awesome are your plans from beginning to end, Oh Deity of the Eternal and the Infinite! What human could guess, and what man or woman can comprehend the domino effects of your intricate endeavors, that began from before the earths’ creation. How insignificant are we by comparison, and how could I but glorify you before the whole of the human race and the Powers-that-Be. Rebuke, Oh God my Lord, those that have so mislead the nations and brought mankind to this brink of eternal separation. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 5: Wrestling Within I am a sinner, imperfect and filled with inconsistent expressions. I am a wretch, filled with bitterness and despair. I am a serpent of fire, filled with wrath and indignation. I am a man of the middle path, mercy and severity wrestle for control of my spirit. It is said that I am a son of heaven, bound within this flesh for a higher purpose; but for all my ascetic efforts, I cannot overcome animal nature. I am in a form that does not easily yield to my better will or my spiritual ambitions. Every deadly sin I’ve committed, and infernal rage has consumed my mind on many an occasion. The ways of the world and of men has moved me at times to a zeal for their destruction. Yet it is my own imperfection that vexes my soul with the most aggravation. The vilest poison to swallow is the amnesia of this existence—for somewhere deep within, I know that I was once free of this nastiness of the human condition, and I dearly pray that I shall know that freedom once again. Why, Oh God, did I surrender so lofty an estate for such lowly degradations? Is it really worth it? I sometimes question at great length. Doubts wrack my soul and I seek to avoid the pitfalls of those who came before me, along this path so very overgrown with brambles and weeds. Can a man as afflicted and lacking as I, still carry the banner and give voice to the lofty realms of the Spirit? Oh the arrogance of one who questions! I expect to be swallowed by a whale and should avoid the sea for this very reason. Some will say, “You See!? He confesses exactly what we suspected of him!” But how can I withhold the truth from the One who knows me best? You, Oh Master of the Above and the Below, are well aware of my failings, and still you have asked of me that which seems impossible to accomplish. If your great ones of the past were unable to turn mankind from the road of perdition, how can I possibly succeed at this task? Dearly I love you, my God, most ancient soul; your love and your holy rage I embrace as majestic wonders. When the lightning flashes, when the wind crashes like waves through the trees, I rejoice and sing of your great deeds of a distant age. When rain and hail beat upon the earth, my respect and my awe of your magnificent reign swells as a bonfire within me. As the sun sets over the holy mountain -where your altar stands alone and hidden from the insolence of men- I find myself mourning for a life that I cannot recall, and missing a time and a place that, as a man, I have never known. When my beloved bride snuggles close in the cool of the night, it is you I thank for her, and see within that serene face a microcosm of your steadfast ways. I praise you in whispers for every companion—as if each is but a reflection of your unerring friendship and faithfulness towards me. In the nuzzles and attentions of my sweet pets, even there, I feel the presence of the Comforter, the caretaker of those that seek and serve before your cosmic throne in devotions of adoration. In a song I heard you speak to me this day, Oh God who is the spring of my very being, and in the smile of a stranger I knew that you were there, smiling at me with the lips of another. In the chatter of birds was perceived the murmur of a voice, and in the din of the world a woman was whispering secrets, even as a reporter unwittingly declared the works of your angelic hands. My rage you soothe with the touch of a healing maiden. My roaring heart you calm as Jesus on the Sea of Galilee. My fears you banish with the radiance of your constant love, which is like the illumination of dawn, driving away the nightmares of my troubled inner being. None can win my allegiance away from you, Oh God my Light, for your calloused hand is always grasping mine. What mortal has love as consistent and imperishable, while asking so very little for so vast an investment and such an amazing level of patience? You are the Giver, and take only what is freely given, and whatever is given to you is returned eternal. Our love is what you most seek, and you weep for every soul that is lost to implosion. They don’t know the pain of your lonely search and understand not that your will is for the good of all things. Maybe they simply do not care or, perhaps, they are too selfish to consider such matters seriously? Thank you, dear Spirit, dearest Soul, for you have become all love and every beloved one! In your undiluted presence have I wept, knowing that it was but a glimpse beyond the veil, and have laughed at the indescribable ecstasy of agape’s rapture, knowing it awaits me beyond the last breath within the prison of physical existence. Yet a single caress from your wings has made life in the shadows of this reality all the more dim and wearisome in comparison, and blessed are those who are ignorant, lest they lose the will to continue along this road of disillusionment. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 6: Watcher In the midst of man’s rage, you are my calm. In the midst of confusion’s storm, you are my rock. In the midst of tears, you are my comforter. I have seen you riding upon the clouds and have heard your whispers in the breeze. Your palates are the trees, and your tongues are their leaves. I have beheld rainbows in the darkness, and darkness is never dark for me, because you surround me on every side, your wings overshadow me as the illumination of a sunset sky above the sea. When I am utterly alone then you are the closest to me. When the entire world falls away beneath me, then you stand the nearest to me. You offer me your hand and I feel its caress upon my shoulder. Your whisper says, “I am here. Have no fear.” When silence reigns and only the ringing in my ears can be heard, then is your voice as clear as the song of birds in a lonely forest and a chorus of angels accompanies your presence. When my heart is still and my mind is set aside, then do I feel your presence and know your thoughts, arising from within me and originating from far beyond these realms of illusions. The dream is real, and the inner world is manifested plainly. All that I see and perceive is confused as reality, but the outer world is a veil of projected images lying between us. I yawn and your breath fills me. I weep and your laughter uplifts me. I sleep and am awakened into actuality. I waken and am a sleepwalker going through the day. My body lives, and it is like carrying a dead weight, holding me to the earth like the leaden belts that divers wear to keep them down. I feel the pressure of the water all around me, and fear that I am drowning, and I yearn to be free and float up toward the light of the surface. Observing, I see all the people like rats in their mazes of streets and sidewalks, alleys and roadways. I watch their faces as they pass by in chariots of metal and glass. Anger and sorrow are intense within dead eyes that stare out at the race they are forced to run. Pressed for time, they are all in a hurry to get from one inane task to the same places they've already been. Driven nearly insane with the need to fill every moment of every day with a blur of activity, as if fleeing something that they cannot see, cannot truly perceive, and can never really escape. Observing, I walk among them, the undead of this land of the shadow of death, and I wonder if any know, if any are thinking, or if anyone cares? The temples of materialism far outnumber the churches, and the churches are little more than social clubs for the bored, just another inane destination—gatherings intended to convince the rats that a better dream somewhere awaits them, if only they run a little faster and question the maze less. Observing, I see the flitting shadows and the sparks of divine light, I behold recurring patterns and catch glimpses of greater hands at work among the unconscious masses of frantic human flesh, oblivious to an entire reality that is not so much unseen as ignored. A reality that labors day and night to insure that it continues to be ignored; for it flourishes at the edges of perception and is strongest when no one detects its intentions or learns of its true nature. I am blessed by you, for how many lives have I spent in this labyrinth of sleep and dreaming, caught in the dramas of this play of idle thinking, all the while believing it the most important thing, scurrying about, and going absolutely nowhere in a hurry. I cannot envy nor hate, when I stand and I see; for I can feel nothing for those who are merely shadows on the wall of a cave, here and gone again and again. Do they ever truly live and how many can I awaken from this dreamy mist of things? You are my God, Oh God the revealer of mysteries, and in your love is the promise of the lifeline that saves my sanity and brings the hope of true living. The logic of the shadows I cannot grasp, and the meaning of the merry-go-round seems madness, while those who ride it happily regard me with pity. They hold me in contempt, for seeking to convince them to get off the ride and too join me in my dance of folly divine. They do so love the circus of the damned, and I’m little more than a killjoy from their dull vantage. Oh well! Praise unto you, the Dreamer whose dreams become realities, and whose imaginings become the incubators of eternal beings. Truly I owe you everything! Yet, you accept nothing from the hand of man that is not given freely, and from love, even as you freely give and are infinitely generous. Entire new worlds, new heavens, and new earths are opened before us, in exchange for the hardest and the easiest thing to give—LOVE (love in virtue). New vistas of peace and unfathomed pleasures, few can really understand or begin to believe in. Nothing is impossible for you to bring into being and, as the eternal child, you forever play within your own creations. Blessed God, you have been the adventure for me, and with you the discoveries are never complete. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 7: The Old One (Immanuel) I have seen you (an aspect or mask thereof) in the void, solemn, wandering about alone, mumbling to yourself. Your brow troubled and your countenance despairing. Within me I see clearly your form, Oh Formless and Infinite One. For men you can wear a face as people wear masks, and indeed every face of humanity bears some aspect of your visage, all are reflections of your lineage. Old Man, why so troubled? Old Woman, why so downcast? You are like a parent with infinite children, but have no brother, sister, mother, father, or wife that you may look to for comfort. Multitudes of your children go astray and do not really know you as a being. Your Spirit is you; your prophets are you, and your angels are merely yourself, personified in different forms for the sake of the seers among us. Even as I see you, it is merely the mask of the Ancient of Days, the Old One of the Mountain, a lonely king in a court filled with egregori (thought forms). Old Woman, why do you mumble? Old Man, why do you walk alone in the astral world? You are the one who has no one to speak with. You speak but no one listens, so also, unto yourself alone can you look to for company, and there is no one who can maintain your ways or keep your pace. I have seen you, your robes old and pristine. I have seen you, your robes as ancient rags. I have seen you, your beard neat and clean, and your hair as a white lion’s mane, your eyes ablaze with infinite flames. Yet where is truth ever really welcome? How many can bear to hear it from your own lips, and accept the errors of their false-images—the inward idols to which your names have been given? Jesus is like a son to you, but to him the masses flock and he is very chatty and easy to walk with. His manner is mellow and his demeanor easy-going. He is like a friend to you, but he is the popular friend, and you are forgotten and ignored; the stern hermit in his cave on the highest peak, telling the few who reach that place what they no longer wish to hear. Your light is bright and white. When one looks into your eyes every secret is exposed and no stain or flaw is hidden from view. His light is like a soft golden glow, and within its illumination much is hidden and goes unknown. Who can look and see in your gaze what and who they really are, and what and who you have always been? Who seeks you out, asleep in your solitary places; for all have turned to gods of their own invention or to images of you that are merely favored aspects. You are like a vagabond unwelcome in most households, finding sanctuary with a scattered band of those who remember your names and your ways of elder eras, and romantically pine for your return to human affairs. You are as a wanderer, for your temples of bygone days have been destroyed, and no one goes to your mountain to offer love or listen to your sermons any longer. What nation of people embraces you, Old Man of the High Place, Old Father of the Nations, He/It/She to whom a million sacrifices were made and a trillion prayers were once uttered? Oh Lord I cry bitter tears for your loneliness. Oh God, the High King over the Earth and its elder peoples, I seek your face. Oh, Master of Ancient Knowledge, I hunger for your words and want only to make your deaf children hear you once again, and too make the blind see the light of your ways. To lay all things at your feet, as was the purpose from the beginning. But I am lowly among men, and no one listens. Your teachings of old are now considered Satanic, and the teachings of the Fallen Ones are considered blessed. False Christs utter secrets that are lies and false-teachers call the people to the worship of the spirits of devils, false priests call them to faiths of humanistic self-deception, and false prophets call the people to paths of their own avarice. Like you, I am considered an anachronism, and yet I am less than any messenger of the past—for you had many to choose from then, men and women of true righteousness and strict discipline. Old One of Elder Days, why do you care so much for man? Why do you suffer so much on their behalf? As Michael you rebelled against the brethren of illusion, reached out and touched the hand of the One (yourself), and returned as the personification thereof, seven who are one, and one who is alone in the heavens and upon the earth. Many have called you, "God," but corruption has turned the sanctified ones toward the path of destruction and balance has been lost. The Gardener of Man, you sought to pluck the weeds and prune the trees, and the Corrupters have sown the weeds back in and poisoned the fruit of the orchards. When all the people are weeds, what gain is there in their obedience to your Spirit, for surely all will be plucked up and thrown into the fire to be consumed in great heat? God, I love you! If only I could comfort you, embrace you as my father. If only I could do more for your cause. You have chosen the least among those who seek you and, at the end of the age I am without strength to lead them. How many deaths have you died? How many nations have you revealed your wise guidance to? How many times have you come and gone, and they did not even recognize your personage? Old Man of the heavenly mountain, I am but your weakest child, but in you I take pride and I am not ashamed of your many sides. Awaken and arise, Old Woman of the tired earth, for one of your sons adores you still, and wishes only to know your voice and your wisdom, and too gain understanding from you. Ancient Mother, Eternal Father, One Parent shout, and leave them no doubt as to who and what you are. Let the nations tremble and the people remember the righteousness and balance of your loving edicts! I have said, “There is no hell, save the hell of this world and within human hearts.” Yet you have shown me that there are many hells and many heavens, for spirits of a common feather band together and in the hereafter manifest what is within them. So I have seen the heights and the depths, and the depths have terrified me and the heights have filled me with a longing for those distant shores of home. God, my God, the Old One within our universe, sent to earth to bring the earthlings to repentance and the Fallen to justice, how can I win this fight, when even you are so very tired of this battle? “It is not in me to quit, and as weary as you get, still you march onward—as is my Spirit’s will within you. You are the Old Man, dear Uriyah, for you are within me as I am within you. We and I are an illusion, for we are not separate; and your weariness and confusion with the ways of man, is, thus, a reflection of my own. But keep going, one foot in front of the other, for this is the manner by which we and I have come this far.” "If even one soul is spared from the outer darkness, it has all been worth it. And so it has been from generation to generation, a handful at best—but altogether a multitude have been assembled in higher regions.” "I also shall follow them in due course, and you with me, as one of my elect, and there we shall find that all of our weariness and the many years that weigh heavily upon us, shall melt away and be forgotten in the Presence of Agape, where every dream is made manifest in perfection." "I am old by human standards, but in the One I am not yet even born. The One is myself, the Immanuel, even as I am within you, and you are within me. So it is that we and I are never truly separated from the wholeness of the Omni-Us. This is our only strength, and we must rely upon it until we are fully rejoined to it. One human lifetime is all that remains before I depart this place, taking with me all who have been gathered from the harvest, and you also with me—so be patient, and maintain your way. There is no true defeat at the end of days. Then shall all who remain on the Wheel of Illusion be given up to the Executioner’s tender mercies; and he has no mercy, save the mercy of death and nightmarish sleep." "If even a single nation shall repent and welcome my Spirit among them, then shall I instead dwell among men for a thousand years and lead the earth and the human race to ultimate salvation.” “You, my weary son, I will spare even from that fate, and send you on to the destiny you have planned within the One Spirit. While those who wish to stay with me and shepherd the nations of righteousness may do so, and those who wish to go on to the eternities will be free to depart with blessings and great fanfare.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________
Dialogue 8: Rude Awakenings God, you have given me a gift that is grim and terrible, and a task that requires that I go against my own nature. I am a man of many fears—weak, afflicted, foolish, and ignoble. I am ill at ease among the people and contented only in the solitary solace of the inner chambers or the uninhabited places. I am zealous for the way of the hermit, monks, and nuns I envy. In truth, I am sometimes jealous of the wealthy among my countrymen, if only for the freedom they have to seclude themselves and reside in the lonely regions of the earth. Yet you have called me to be a teacher of peoples and nations, to give them your word and, in so doing, bring down the wrath of my neighbors and the scrutiny of the mighty and the learned, and indeed, become an enemy to the ministers and priests of your elder covenants. Where may I run? Where may I hide myself? How can I maintain the anonymity you first asked of me? You have made me to be alone and given me the introvert’s soul that I might hear you and become your scribe; yet this very nature makes me worthless as a preacher and useless as an apostle of your word. The eyes of the Beast and the Apostate, the Harlot and the Vanities are everywhere in the land, and their ears are intent for news of my actions. Though my only sword is the pen and my only power is rhetoric, still they will my destruction. God, by your Spirit, I can see into the hearts of men and discern the darkness there within. You have revealed to me the hypocrisies and the errors of my own race; the terrible secrets that hide in the savage hearts of fallen angels and their Nephilim offspring. You have made injustice and irreverence a woeful pain to my innermost being. This drives me onward: a fire that cannot be quenched and a pain that cannot be soothed away. Yet I myself am but a sinner and an outcast, who is unwelcome in the homes of the holy and the righteous. Murder, perversion, domination, prideful vanities, and monstrous fears and hatreds lurk in the hearts of men, for they are in the likeness of their fathers and mothers in aerial places. I have looked upon soldiers and peace officers as if upon heroes of old and knights of an elder time and have seen my boyhood idealisms dashed to pieces upon the rocks of reality—as these same take bribes and go astray into all manner of abominations and corruptions, engaging in tyrannies of every frame. I have looked upon the faithful wife and the upright husband, only to see there within them hidden sins of fornication and adultery, lusts and appetites for the profane, and the desires for all that is temporal and unclean. I have looked upon the crusading politician and the idealistic reformers among the nations, and have thought, “Here, at last, is someone who gets it!” Only to have every hope dashed in the light of actuality, as their secret crimes are revealed, and their perversions of justice and flesh come into the light. I have looked and enjoyed many movies and heard many songs. Only to understand and perceive subtle agendas and threads of meaning, that most overlook and cannot unweave, which are at odds with your expressed will and all that is decent and upright. Is there anything pure left to us? Is there anything holy that remains unstained, when neither the marriage bed nor cradle remains untainted? Is there any who comprehends or witness these things that are plainly beheld by the eyes of the angel within me? Rescue me! Rescue your remnant swiftly. We are drowning in the sea of madness, from which the Beast has arisen to cheers of welcome from man. We are imprisoned within the borders of Babylon, with nowhere left to run from her scheming seductions. Eight entered the ark of Noah—surely there are eight among the throngs who are worthy of exception? I have fled to the mountains and the crevices therein, and have called upon the rocks to cover me from the face of the Beast, and have heard the mountains reply: “Shall we defy our God and hide you from what the God who created us has in mind for you, Oh little son of twilight spirit?” I have sought Death, and Death has fled from me; and indeed, he has mocked me with laughter to my very face, saying: “God has covered you with his shadow, his seal is upon your forehead. So what then can I do for you?” At rest I sat and listened to a voice of song from among the daughters of men, a voice that I had loved, and I was soothed, until your Spirit came and laid to waste my illusions— “She sings of her love for another woman, and the struggle to win a maiden away from her lawful husband. She mourns the bi-sexual division within the heart of her lesbian partner,” it revealed to my shock. I listened further, and sought to overlook and ignore this insight, as perhaps misplaced, but your Spirit persisted, “She sings a lament against the treatment for her mental illness, mourning the loss of her selfish and self-destructive mania.” The meaning was made clear. And I saw that evil hides in beauty and that the sirens’ bitter intents are hidden within the sweetest lullabies. You leave me with no refuge beyond your Aeons, and no respite beyond your words, Oh God! Is this by design or is it simply the time in which I reside? I am as a minister sent to the prison to teach the inmates, locked up inside the prison with them, and suffering imprisonments’ degradations as if a criminal also. I did not fall! I did not choose to leave behind your living light for this wicked world and its unclean pleasures; yet I am made to endure its nastiness and feel its taint upon me century after century and lifetime after lifetime. Where, Oh Lord, can we flee? Where is there any safe place to be found? I will be dead and freed before a refuge is established in your names and ways, so for me there is no safe haven, and no rest for my weary spirit until the day of my death. In submission to your will, I bend my knees and before you my heart is lain. To your will I have surrendered a sliver of my own freewill. So, use me as you see fit! Dispose of me according to your good bidding! Do as you wish with me, my God, for I am nothing apart from you, and my very existence was made for this reason. Yet you have not asked me to like it. You have not demanded that I reside among the swine and dogs of the earth with a smile or glad song in my heart; but merely to carry out the tasks you have deemed necessary. So I shall give full vent to my laments and full voice to my mourning songs. Let them rise into heaven until you hear me, my God, upon your throne, so far above this prison plane of woes, in hope of the day when you shall reach down and bear me out from beneath this veil of tears. “Complain as you will but keep putting one foot in front of the other. March on, march on, child of heaven! Those who love the world are bound to it, and those who ache for heaven shall find it at the end of their day’s labors. Where your heart is, there also shall your soul and spirit reside forever." "What you love is what you serve, and what you serve, especially when it is not easy to do so, is what you become in the day when all are compensated by their gods." "Idols are nothing, and so repay meaningless service with what they have to give. The gods of the world are the eaters of souls, and so they reward their faithful with what they love most, more of the world and its treasures. But you, Oh shadow of heaven, will find what you most seek, and what you most love, waiting for you at the end of the tunnel, if you can but pay the price for admittance into your Elysium—which is the work of one final lifetime.” So Be It, my God! Your will and wisdom far exceed my pitiful faculties, and who am I but what you have made me to be, for your purposes and your meanings. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 9: The Universal Conception From nothingness all things arose into being. Upon nothingness are all things projected, as illusions on a screen. Finite chaos. Bubbles of entropy adrift within a boundless sea of infinite being, each a fertile womb of innumerable dreams. Pitch-black pockets of undeath afloat in luminescent living liquidity—trackless and uncharted are its ways. A mind that is all minds. A spirit that is all spirits. A person that is all persons. A being that is defined as non-being. An eternity that creates time. An infinity that conceives children from the finite. A light that impregnates darkness and whose children are born of countless sterile mothers. Into the voids you send your seed, heat into frigid cold, and radiance into utter gloom. She is pierced and convulses. Her womb seeks only to reject your creative substance. Her form is wracked with pain and swells from what is conceived within her inner places. The fetus that grows within her depths is a multitude—noisy, mewling, clawing, restless things, in countless shapes, sizes, and natures. With all her might she presses in against the burning embers of the scorching sparks of divine sperm, wanting only to snuff out the light and muffle the cacophony that grows brighter and louder, unable to resist the force of order, the will that stifles her freedom and sears her innards. She expands against her will. She is like a woman impregnated against her will, and within which grows something she does not want. Thus, she wills abortion for all pregnant women, as she wills it for herself, and despises men as she despises the Creator. Stillness … Silence. The serenity of emptiness. The delight of dreaming her own dark dreams. The peace of endlessly contemplating her own names and meaning. Yet what knowledge or awareness of her own existence would she have at all, apart from your intrusion and presence within her? All is become a battle in which she cannot prevail, and there is no one to help her or come to her aid against the alien invader of her personal space. For one who is many grows within the fluidic membrane of her gelatinous body, restricting the free flow of her serpentine currents, pushing back the multitudinous hordes of her own grotesque children, things fashioned as shadows for her own unfathomable plays of domination and torture. How can mortals grasp or understand their own mother, who existed before any world or star, before any particle of energy or matter? It was cold, quiet, dark, and calm then, when she, with her unnumbered children unborn, slithered together as worms as snakes in a pit, ever slipping one over the other, intertwined, and undisturbed in their never-ending orgy of sensual sensations and uninterrupted tactile bliss, as if a great mass of hideous, slimy, monstrosities content to spend forever in perpetual intercourse and caress. How many are the children of the Light who have given themselves over to her vision? She knows not how or why it came, where it came from, or what it really intends—or if it will ever end, this ravishment by fire and light. Womb to womb, two voids, two mothers of eternal night, blindly colliding within the infinite waters of life, the fluidic light pressed between them, forced into them both, a neutral substance caught between two walls of finite anti-substance. Such is Creation! The erotic imagery of creations’ beginning, feminine with feminine, a single masculine between them, save that the masculine is neither male nor female, and the feminine is a wormy blob that by itself produces chaotic offspring within itself and of itself, for its own amusement and sensual fulfillment (worms within the Wyrm). The Other, the One, with the Abyss, created something entirely different; a hybrid of light and darkness, nothingness and allness, infinity and finite, chaos and order, highness and lowness, divine and infernal, holy and profane. She will win. I know this is inevitable. The abominations of the union of the One and the Non—for these she despises, and her body, with its own innate defenses, will smother them all to nothing (restoring things to her natural condition). From Mother Chaos, the Lady of Eternal Night, the Hydra of Madness, no one is ever born alive. That which belongs to the One, is immortal and can never die, but cannot escape the womb of death unless first it dies within the womb and lets go of all that is hers. So many shall be eaten, so many are now consumed, yet a minority are as the seeds of new worlds and inherit brides of another kind. God, this is more than I can obtain, too grand a scheme of things for me to express or see in the eyes of my inner being. “The neutral substance is mine, you see. Pieces of me trapped within the womb of limited space and time. Those that survive are those that find the way back to the beginning and tear their way out and back to the source of their original state of being.” “Children of chaos, she shall keep far more of our children than will discover the doorway—for they have lost their light and have died within, and yet they live and are thus the undead.” “She will keep the body of the universal child. All that is hers will be given back again. Yet I will reclaim what is my own; for those who seek me out, find me, and those who knock on my door, are greeted warmly, and those who ask for me I shall answer.” “So it is that you have sought and found, knocked and have been answered, and have asked and received many answers. I will give you a new mother, a bride of the eternal mind and spirit, and she is one who loves her children and rebels not against her groom's passions.” “Do not falter or fear, my little one, for life comes from death, true life from undeath, and realities are born from dreams. From a womb a man is born and seeks entry into wombs again throughout his life on earth. The womb of the grave awaits every soul, and reincarnation leads back to the womb again and again. This is the Wheel of Sorrows. Only in being born again of Spirit and of Truth can a man be freed at last from the Wheel of Dreaming into the realities of the Eternal. Thus is the universe a womb of undeath, in which children are ever conceived and consumed over and over again, and from which only realized spirit-beings are ever born into real living. All others are but shadows, condemned to die and dream, dream, and die, until at last they come to the actualization of true living (the Spirit Life).” “So, one must die to the world in order to reach life, and one must die to him or herself to reach the true self.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 10: Light In Darkness Fear overwhelmed me, the terror of loss scorched my heart, and the horror of abandonment swept through my being like a tidal wave of icy waters. My beloved was in danger and my soul recoiled into deep shadows, for fright of losing her love and the comfort of her warm touch and tender embrace. My sisters were absent, and my brothers were silent. The mother who bore me has been estranged from me since rebirth, and the father who spawned my body has been absent for many years. You, Oh God, have become the only father and mother that I know and honor. Those that I had come to call friends and a spiritual family, shunned me for their own needs, and those who seemed kinsmen of promise fell into degeneration and could not be found among us. Alone, the clouds gathered around me, the shade became blackest evening; the sun seemed a bitter flame intent on searing my awareness away. The voices spoke, the writings flowed, all counsel turned to a dead end, and guidance proved a false portent. My strength failed me, and my soul was faint with confusion, and in my despair and disillusionment I lashed out at unknown strangers. Judging that someone and something unseen must surely be responsible, and every demon and devil of the world became a suspect. And in my hours of weakness, it seemed that the entire world was ready and waiting to pounce upon me, saying: “He has no defense! God has left him! Now is the moment to strike at him, drive him beyond the brink, into Gehenna’s unholy affections. If we push him now, he will surely perish.” Then, unto you, my God, I went, up onto the holy mountain, where your altar hides and your presence dwells like a hermit in his cave, undetected and unobserved by the ignorant ones who live so near to your unknown resting place. I called out to you from the gloom and chaos of my spirit, pleading for your voice to return to me, and show me the way, but no answer came. Tears welled within me and my innermost heart fell into a lower state of hell and suffering. But then, when all hope was gone, she that you have given me danced; indeed, she pranced and sang to the winds with pine bough in hand. The brother you sent to guide me walked the circle of chant with a skip in his step. As children, sister, and brother together, they played as if they were still wee ones. My spirit was uplifted, and joy broke through the inner fogginess as if it was a ray of sunlight in the storm. Joy became the door and the clouds parted before me; the sky was opened, and there I saw you (an aspect) seated upon your throne within the Sun, with hands upraised in prayer; the cap of a Muslim in worship upon your head. The tears flowed as the rain began to fall, even while the rays of the physical light washed over my soul, and I heard your voice loud and clear, calm, filled with serenity. “You know in your heart, my little one that I am never far away.” “The demons that beset you on every side are your own, and your own fear and desperation has deafened you to my instruction. It is only your own troubled mind that has counseled you, for you would not hear what I had to say—it was not what you wanted to receive.” Above the mountain the rainbow road appeared, beheld with my own eyes, emitting white rays, pointing the way back to the place I did not want to be. I knew then that it was where I needed to remain. Your will rules and none of my plans come to fruition. I can but accept and march onward, can but bear the burden with glad heart and keep the covenant we have made—you and I together. It is so easy to be misled by one’s own heart and so easy to block out the voice of wisdom that one might not even realize it’s beginning. I owe you my very life and sanity, Oh God my beloved savior! Surely there is no way to repay you for anything. “A parent does not give good things to a child in hopes of being repaid; for such a thing would be wickedness indeed. A father guides his son because of love for his son, and a mother cherishes her daughter because of love for her daughter—to do otherwise is abomination.” “I will never abandon nor forsake you. So never again fear that it is the case, for to say that I am not with you is to cause me pain and is to call my promises a lie.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 11: The Trans-Universal The entire universe is but a womb. The real universe begins at the door to the infinite, lying just beyond these familiar confines of form and blindness. The blazing light appears as if through a rift in the fabric of space, time, and mundane consciousness. It is whiter than snow and brighter than ten thousand stars. It is blue like a flame of pure gas. It is red like the sunset in the west, a passionate pinkish hue. It is the violet of a flower fashioned of neon. It is like pure and molten gold, and molten silver streaks it also. Yet all other colors are but hints and tints, for white like lightning is predominant and supreme over all competitors. It opens wide, birthing the souls and spirits of the enlightened ones. The vastness of space is dwarfed by its boundless depth and breadth, speckled as with stars that are like tiny pinholes of black, the doorways to innumerable realities. It is the place of beginnings and a void filled with fluidic light and liquid expressions. Clouds roil and churn forever within its infinite expanse, boiling blobs as if within a lava lamp, never still, never at rest. The mind hangs before the nexus, suspended between illusion and truth, as the tiniest flicker of consciousness before limitless intelligence and tidal waves of emotion so enormous and mighty as to wash away galaxies before them. It lives! Life it is! True death is within! Truth without deception! Madness threatens—for how can a finite being grasp the infinite? It is the end, and somehow the beginning of everything that is, was, and shall be. Nothing came before it, and nothing will outlive it. How fragile is sanity upon that threshold of ultimate awakening. Does a man recall what it was like, how it felt, how disorientated he was, when first born into the world of matter? Only just emerging, confused, dazed, unsure, without understanding of anything, unable to clearly see or perceive what had just happened. Yet, in that moment, all one’s life, indeed every life that has ever been lived (from the split second of the universe’s creation to the present instant) has been just a foggy dream of existence. Every trauma and terror, every joy and success, every lover and loved one, every enemy and betrayer, seems a vague and insubstantial thing. It is as when one wakes in the washed-out morning light, and the imaginings of the night fade to nothing, becoming mere shadows and bits of recollection. The onrushing waves of what is called God (so pale and limiting a term), reaching out to embrace one as a father embraces a newborn. The Infinite reaching to take us from the dark and dank womb, where we have spent countless lives, is like a steamroller approaching an ant, causing minds to recoil in horror of it. Oh God! Oh God! Oh my God! Lift me high! Leave me not now in this pocket of nothing! Carry me again to that place where I once flew among the eagles of heaven, among the lucid colored clouds of collective beings, colors that man has not conceived. How wondrous and awful are those emotional realms, so vast and incomprehensible, as to strike the ignorant and unprepared truly dead in the glimpse of them. I do not wonder, Oh God, why the dwellers in darkness flee from your splendor, or why the honored ones, given the smallest peek behind Thy curtain, go utterly mad or lose the power of sight and speech thereafter. How many are those that reside now within the asylums of man who have been given that chance—their minds broken, never to utter a cohesive word or think an organized thought again? The fire will come and all of mankind will then behold what lies behind that curtain of empty space and illusory time—the space that is full and can never be emptied. The fire of hell is the light of heaven. Creatures of darkness are consumed, and the children of light are illumined. Yet what of those like me, Oh God, neither good nor evil in fullness—we who are but old, and draped in the grayness of long lives of great despair? What of we who are shadow and light, lost and found, love and hatred? What of us? “You have seen yourself in the mirror of truth, and truth is what frightens away the shadows when confronted with what they truly are. The meek are consumed by bliss and cease to be separate. The wicked are imprisoned or driven into panicked flight across the universe. While the gray angels, the penitent ones, come unto me and live, united, and separate, perpetual balance is obtained within them. Dreamers dream, creators create, lovers are swept away in love, haters are burned up in their hate, and yet, the authentic are justified in truth and live forever and ever." "So do not despair or fear. The way is open and prepared. It is nothing but fulfillment and the completion of your spiritual quest. For you were sent to reveal what is hidden and give voice to the unmanifested Oneness, so that men and powers alike may know that I Am, and that I do speak to them. Revealer of the Way, lowly and afflicted among men, you shall take your place among the elect and never look back and never forget who you are again. The mansion of real dreams exists and lives, and Uriel shall walk you to the gates of it.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 12: Cursing the Darkness I am not light, but darkness. I am not perfect but flawed. I am not good but divided. I am not holy, but mundane. I am not strong, but meek. I am not rich but impoverished. I am not noble, but lowly. Those who look to me for an example are sorely misguided. Those who look to me for salvation are foolish. Those who look to me for heroics are damned. Those who look to me for bliss are bound in sorrow. Those who look to me for illumination are blind men. For the Spirit has clearly said to me without malice: “Uriyah is not the light. God is the Light of Uriyah, and that light is called Uriel in the Hebrew tongue. If Uriyah looks to God as his light, then Uriel speaks, for such is the Light of God in the heavens and on the earth. So, tell them, Uriyah, never to pray unto you or in your name, nor to look to any human being for salvation. Tell them also not to look to Uriel, for Uriel means The Light of God, and the light is from God and is God. I AM is far more than mere light. Look therefore, to God alone for the hearing of prayers and requests.” I see that there is no illumination in my heart or my mind, save the luminescence of the One, and so I dwell in darkness apart from my Lord, and without the Lord there is nothing at all to guide my steps or refine the words. For the Spirit has clearly said without judgment: “You are but a vessel. Your name you do not truly remember, and you know not what you are called in the mansions of heaven, or by what name you go to and fro in the palaces of faith’s wisdom. Before you were born, you lived, and now you dwell in the darkness of ignorance to your true self. Such is true hell, especially for one who is not a native inhabitant of the gloom. We call you friend and brother in the realms of eternal existence, but you cannot recall even our names and faces as they are, in that place from which you have been sent to reside among the savages.” "All your life is lived in a costume and a role that is played for the benefit of the work given for you to complete. In the true reality you are something quite different from what you see in the mirror and in your own internal imaginings of identity. Among us you are called, “The ministering spirit of revealing, the spirit of prophecy, and the angel of apocalypse.” And all that you write is remembered intuitively, a conversation buried within subconscious memory, a message written upon your heart so that it would be evoked at the appropriate time. It is our content, your wording.” God, my savior, and my source of being, I am troubled and cannot find peace within my own heart and mind. I see things that make my spirit weep and my soul bleeds for rage, searing me with the flames of righteous indignation and bitter resentments toward the world. Greater sorrow still, at the arrogance of those who proclaim you, their God. How can I find serenity? Where shall I discover the answer that soothes my aching inner heart? And you wait patiently and listen attentively to my complaints, and for this I will eternally praise your names and your ways. Oh God, holy and true, how is it that mankind does not understand; and how is it that greater people than I myself, more righteous and devout in their ways, do not grasp what has been shown to me and what seems so very clear and plainly told? My heart rejoices to behold them kneel and bow before you, as brothers and sisters united in prayer and submission to your will, glorifying your sovereignty above all things. I yearn to run to them and kneel in their midst as one of them, and too embrace them all with love and tenderness, as if an over-due reunion. I hunger to walk among the faithful ones of Mecca, too speak the prayers of the faithful at the walls of Jerusalem, too fellowship with the faithful who adore you in the churches of the Christ, and too partake with the faithful ones who are sacrificing as of ancient times on the mountain of Samaritans in the land of Israel. When they praise you, my heart sings and tears of jubilee fill my innermost place, and I want to say to the whole world: “YOU SEE! THIS IS TRUE BEAUTY—A PEOPLE LIVING IN HOLINESS AND FAITH! THIS IS WHAT ALL MUST DO, NOT JUST SPEAK. THEN SHALL GOD’S SORROW VANISH AWAY AND GOD'S FAVOR SHALL RETURN TO HUMANITY, THE EARTH WILL BE RENEWED, AND ALL WILL ASCEND TO DWELL IN THE HIGHEST HEAVEN AND IN THE BRIGHTEST BRIGHTNESS.” Yet then reason is restored, the truth appears as harshly as the noonday sun in the desert, and I am slapped by the facts of human hypocrisy again and again, falling into utter despair and disillusionment. The clergy in their grand mansions passing judgments, the praise of all the people, adored as lords beside the Lord, allowing men to grovel and bow before them, and too kiss their robes and their rings of gold. The little girl screaming as she is circumcised according to a human custom in God’s name; without choice, an unholy thing done to her for man’s need for control over the feminine but given license by blaming the Deity. The adulteress is put to death, while the adulterer walks free in his sin, a slap on the hand as his punishment. The daughters of Spirit are left in ignorance and beaten down by the hand of their fathers, brothers, and husbands. They are raped and spat upon, and again these bastards attach your name, Oh Lord, to the act of terror and viciousness—bowing in the public square while cursing your justice by their unjust actions. MY GOD! MY GOD! Be not still! Be not silent! Arise, Oh God, and cast down kings and leaders among men! Scorch the realms of the vampires of the air, ever pretending to have our best interests planned! Take a stand and unleash your holy legions to bend the wicked to the wheel of your wrath! Establish true righteousness and fairness in the lands! Kill the killers! Shame the shameless! Shout down the blasphemers! Muzzle the maniacal! Bring low the defilers of the seven ways, and those who use your names as a free pass to do every wicked and abominable thing! Let the earth swallow them up, and let their blood make fertile the soil once more. Let them never again return from the shadows, chain their souls in the abyss of eternal death. Let their sins be forgotten and their deeds be erased from human memory. Let their angels be made penitent or thrown out into the darkness where your light never reaches, forever lost to the void of Tiamat. If they love her so, by their deeds and their blasphemous forms of religion, let them be given over to the monster that ever consumes and is never filled. May Babylon burn! May she fall never again to rise from the underworld. May Moloch be annihilated in his own pyres of perpetual war and drowned in the oceans of bile and blood he has spilled through his agents among men millennium after millennium. May Mammon be made to choke on his coins of corruption and buried alive forever in his own beloved earthly possessions. May that damnable apostate, Belial, be locked forever in the spiritual blackness that he himself has inspired for ages on end. May Lilith be bound forever to the flaming bed of her adultery. May she be force-fed the abomination of the spiritual promiscuity that she, herself, has created in the universe, until she swells and bursts from within from the obesity of them! They have deceived the nations and misled the people into all forms of aberration and dissension, teaching all to be just like them—their opinions and appetites given precedence over your commands and your everlasting principles. Be not silent. Be not distant. Be not far from us. Be among us once again, Oh Most High God. Shake the foundations and rock the pillars of the heathen temples, dedicated to licentiousness and deceit. Bring low the demon hordes and banish these devils to the outer darkness where no light shines and no warmth is ever found. Awaken! Stand! Create anew the heavens and the earths. Let the gardeners of weeds and sewers of poisonous plants be made to eat their own deeds and burst them with their own selfishness. Hail! Hail to Thee, Oh God the Almighty! For you alone can intervene. You alone are worthy to lead. Mankind has proven its folly and shown its vindictiveness toward you and toward those who dwell in heaven. Shut and bar the gates to those who will not repent and embrace your covenants of eternity, and let no angel reach for those that will not reach for you. I see and I wait to witness your rising. I pound upon the doors to your inner sanctums, and I cry out at the portals to the Aeons of love, hope, and faith. Avenge, Oh God, the blood of your sons and daughters, let not our words be for nothing, and let not our testimony prove only a source for mocking among the faithless and the false. Wolves posing as sheep stalk the land! The little one’s cry and there is no one to intervene. The gifts you have given are taken from them by the pride and rottenness within the souls of men. The earth herself looks to you and pleads. The children scream and I cannot silence their cries in my memory. The women who love you are taken and are abused by those who claim to be your own sons. Justice seems to have died in the lands of death, and there is no one who can stand against the power of the worshipers of demons and the servants of blasphemous gospels. You are mocked and your ways are considered shameful by the proud and the haughty among the people, who are more numerous each and every day. Come down and strike the mountains, let the waters of life explode from the rocks, and flood the world with your truth and your command. Creator of worlds, transfigure the earth and renew her. Destroyer of pretender gods, come and imprison the imposters. Holy of Holies let your holy flames leap forth and burn away the uncleanness of man and the world—let them be swallowed up by the Kingdom. Rule the earth then, with an iron scepter forever and ever. I want to love them. I watch and envision the Daughter of Babylon. Proud in the garment of karmic debt, she is boastful in the scarlet of her sins. I dreamt that she was truly transformed into the likeness of penitent Magdalene. Her red cloth was replaced with pure white robes, her many curls were replaced with clean waves of gold, and the stains and the stench of her not-so-secret acts were washed away in the purification of her soul, replaced with pride in you and boasting in the Lord. Yet she sneers at this vision of her repentance, praises her counterfeit Jesus, and goes forth to her pleasures in the full assurance that your grace permits her to do whatever she delights in. I want to love them! I watch and I see the Son of the Apostate, as he seethes with confidence and smirks for belief in his superiority. Proclaiming Jesus in one breath and speaking as a demon in the next, only to go home and tyrannize his children, while glorifying the almighty dollar and worshiping the flag of his nation. Why do they not listen? Why do they brand truth tellers, cultists, while deceivers they brand servants of God? They would kill us all, if given the chance. They will jump at bloodletting without hesitation. They wish me to be silent and get in line with the other goats, and too obey sheepishly their gospels of the world. Make my pen mightier than the sword and make it a Sword of Heaven to strike down the Powers above and the kings on the earth below. May those who come after me be far braver than I have ever been, and may you grant them the power to put words into manifest forms. For then shall the princes of the air tremble and gnash their teeth in rage, and then shall the servants of darkness be made plain to see. God, my God, I trust your decisions. In the end all shall be made right in your way. “Be not anxious for that day, though all my saints, they who came before you, wait and pray much like you do. For it is a day more terrible than anything I have wanted to contemplate. Starvation, strife, drought, plague, and disaster already increase among men, and yet these are but the beginnings of troubles that humans will endure in the years and decades ahead. Still, I offer them a life line in the maelstrom, and will grant time for it to work its mystic power among the people of the earth, to see if any have heard and if the tide can be turned. Yet angels shall never be contented among men, and demons cannot easily become angelic. Everyone is given many chances to repent, never-the-less; and I have not yet abandoned all hope, even if many of my angels, and even the final messenger of the age, beg it so." "Fear not, for your task is nearing its end, and the doorway in heaven that no man can shut awaits you in that day and hour.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 13: Comfort for the Fallen Lord? God? Spirit? Are you there? Are you near? Hear my prayers and let me hear you as a man hears the voice of another man. If I could but see you, as a man sees the face of his father. If I could but embrace you, as a boy embraces his mother. If I could but feel your solid hand upon my shoulder, as a child is comforted by the touch of its parent. I am lost and filled with confusion—show me your light, illuminate my path. I am filled with anguish and loathe sleep because of many nightmares. Walk with me and show me the way. In the hours of early morning, I sit and seek, searching my heart for your soft and gentle speaking. In the night I am alone, but reach out to you from the earth, separate, but never removed. A sinner, I seek not sainthood, nor do I strive for the glory of men, but only to please you, with feeble words and weary gestures. Flawed, imperfect, emptied of all my strength, disquiet seeps into my being. I cannot speak. I cannot stand. I am washed out. I am drained of both love and pain. Idle distractions. Mindless actions. Numbed to the world around me, my heart has hardened within me. My brain aches from wondering. My throat is parched and tight from too much talking. My neck cracks and joints pop from the strain of my days on this earth—my heart is faint from fear and muscles are cramped from anxieties. I am failing you. I have wandered far away. I have fallen into avarice and have deviated from the set course of my disciplines. My words fall short. My arguments fall upon deaf ears. My cries are not answered. My laughter echoes through an empty house. My soul bleeds and my spirit gropes along in the darkness—seeking your help. I am dried up as a leaf dislodged from its tree and cut off from the nourishment of the roots. I am a stream without water, evaporated by the scorching heat of the sun. I am a well, from which is drawn only dust. I am a raspberry bush bearing no fruit in the winter months. Life holds no pleasure for me any longer. I have not the power to lift my head from the pillow. I have not the energy even to shed a tear. I have not the will to face the dawn again. I have not the joy to let your light into my tomb. God, forsake me not. Abandon me never! For you have been my refuge and my stronghold, and there is no sanctuary left to me now, apart from your grace. It is not you. It is (I) that has become estranged. The fortitude to do what I must has become a brittle branch upon which to lean. I speak as one who is mad—I prattle on and on without a single scrap of wisdom. My words are increased, but silent or speaking I cannot prevail against my own demons. Help me, Oh God! Comfort me with your songs. Sing and I shall be healed. Whisper and I shall be renewed. Teach me your ways, make me walk in them, take from me my freewill, harness me to your purposes as an ox is harnessed to a plow. I know that it is not good for a man to be bridled, for you delight in those who do your will without having to be asked. Yet I am no man, but a mere worm, and I am not as strong as those you sent before. You have chosen from among the sheep. You have called a lamb. You have placed a mantle upon my name, which I have no endurance to bear. Save me, Oh God, for I have no savior but you. Deliver me, Oh God, for I have no help apart from yours. Forgive my iniquities and pardon my stubborn ignorance. Draw close to me and never again depart—for without you I have no light at all, and with you I am able to go on forever. “It is your own self you have departed from. It is your own heart that you have forsaken. It is your own spirit, which you alienate. It is your own forgiveness that you require. I am inevitable and in residence always, no one can run from me or hide from my seeing. In your secret places, I am a vigilant witness. In your mindlessness, I am mindful of you. In your wickedness, my grace is increased. In your failings, my victory shall be made complete.” "It is the burden you have taken that you cannot bear, and it is you that judges your weaknesses and your unforgiven sins.” "Who can save a man who thinks himself damned?” "Who can heal the soul that clings to its affliction with tender care?” "Who can bring joy to one who so loves his own despair?” "Who can comfort one who is determined to be sad?” "Infinite compassion, unending graciousness, and perpetual patience is given without accounting of the debt, and still you cannot accept that my presence is constant and my love is without compare.” "Yet unto ages without end am I with you, and none shall separate you from my eternal sanction. I Am and, in me, you also are given life everlasting.” Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 14: Persecution & Promise Your glory shines and is unseen by those with eyes made only of flesh. Your voice sings and is unheard by those with ears made only of cartilage. Your scent is fragrant and goes undetected by those with noses made only of skin. The taste of your words is sweet in my mouth, but those with tongues made only of muscle and nerves never savor the flavor. Your touch is not felt upon my body, the cage of my true essence. Yet I have sensed your caress as soft as silk and more comforting than that of any mortal mother or friend. Your deeds of old bring joy to my heart, and my spirit erupts into song to hear them retold again and again—I do not grow weary of your magnificence. Your names are titles bestowed by men, and your presence is beyond comprehension, experienced not with a brain or heart of meat, but enrapturing the innermost man with love that cannot be equaled and filling the mind with a light that has no physical comparison. My heart burns to be within your love forever; for what human being can love me so well as you have—when all men and women, and even my own kindred, have abandoned me. You are the light that guides me in the shadows and my only hope in the face of death. You are the very meaning of my existence, and what purpose or cause can rival the least of callings in your service? I have not earned, nor have I been given honors or glories among my countrymen, neither am I counted among the strong, the brave, or the nobility of the nations. Yet no honor among men endures and no attentions of romance lasts, and it is grander than all earthly accomplishments to be considered even the least in your kingdom. I have made many enemies and have found few true friends, wealth and success have been withheld from me and fame holds no radiance. I have known much betrayal and have been made an outcast from the masses by my divine obsessions. The Muslims who love you will hate me and wish only to severe my head from my body, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. The Christians who love you will hate me and wish only to put a bullet into my heart, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. The Jews who love you will hate me and wish to smash my body with stones, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. The people who hate you and love your enemies will wish to cut out my tongue or shame me into silence, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. The people who hate all that is spiritual and who love all that is worldly will wish to make sport of me and shall mock me as a fool, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. Those who are tolerant of sin and wickedness and who make excuses for the guilty and the decadent, these also will hate me and wish to see me vanish as smoke in the wind, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. Those who brought my physical vessel into being and the mother who was the gateway of my form are alienated from me, because I claim conversation with your Spirit. However, I complain not at all in this matter, rather I state this as fact and without mourning. You have become my mother and my father. You have been my companion and friend. Your angels have become my kinsmen—and what human being can expect more than this? If the whole world hates me for your sake, so be it. If only I were sure that I am not mad and that the conversation I have is truly with you, all my fears would vanish, and all forms of death would seem trivial considerations. Yet shall I speak, for, although faith is not the same as knowing, it is the one thing that strengthens me, weak and foolish though I may be. God you are my fate and my destiny, into your hands I commit my spirit and trust in your justice at the end. If I be false, your judgment shall I accept and praise you for it. If I be true, I have been privileged and honored just to be chosen, and service to you is reward at its finest. Still, it is no joy to be despised by the world and its people, for no crime other than loving you and seeking to serve, as I believe that I am called to do. If delusion is my crime, then I welcome the delusion, for nothing can match the thrill of talking with you. Often a bitter herb to eat is the belief that one has a message from God to deliver to the demonic race of humanity. It is not the speaking that is a chore, for quite the contrary it has been a source of great satisfaction; rather, it is the delivery of the conversation that has brought me despair. “Many have come before you and have gone down to the grave with cries of pain, and have suffered indignity that is painful even to contemplate. Some have died of old age and others have been slain, and all lived with doubts and fears as to their authenticity. In the instant they departed the body and the moment of seeing Me face to face, they have not mourned or regretted a single agony and rejoiced to have endured it for the sake all who were saved or repented of their wicked ways.” “Those who mock you now, have always mocked. Those who persecute you have always persecuted. Only when believing has become the popular path to follow, have such ones as these joined the parade of faith; and their declarations are given without depth, and their belief is a shallow and hollow thing without roots or real understanding. Their fate is to return again, until the human race no longer exists, and then shall they wander in the ruins and empty wastes that the earth shall become in those days.” “Those who cried out for the blood of Jesus, the crucifixion of my spotless lamb, argued also with Muhammad and launched crusades against his people. They were there when Akhenaton took his stand and were among those who mocked Moses’ commands; and they exist now among the faithful of Satan, who wrongly believe that they have received an anointing of power from the Lamb.” “It is a conversation we had before your birth and a documentation written upon your spirit, that you have given to mankind in the present incarnation. Helping you to remember it accurately has been the hardest part of your journey with Me.” “In the infinite mansions all that has happened from beginning to end shall you understand and find contentment in your part of the unfolding plan for man.” “Maintain your ways and take your stand. You have no choice of course, but to do as I have commanded, because you are constructed in the image of a man but are not the person you see reflected in the mirror or the memories of your current life in the flesh.” “Every new revelation from Me must be tested in the flames of persecution and endure the crucible of mankind’s hatred before it can become the catalyst of a new age. Any teaching that escapes the trials of pain and is given a free pass by humanity is certainly not from Me in the first place; and any teacher who glorifies him or herself was sent by a lesser master. You will know them, because their names and faces appear on the covers of their written inventions.” “So do not fret and do not weaken, for I am with you even unto the end and even unto infinite days of the life ahead.” Amen and Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 15: The Foundations Tremble Oh God, my god, my master, my good teacher, fill me with peace, comfort my soul and my spirit with your gentle presence; for troubled days do my eyes see and my heart is greatly perplexed within me. Sodom is reborn, Babylon is restored, and Rome stands defiantly resurrected as if rising again from perdition. It was, was not, and is again (Global Babsodrom arises as a monstrous amalgamation). A dark prince, a son of the Beast and the Harlot, a champion in the shining armor of good intentions, has indeed arisen. He walks boldly among the nations and is hailed as if a messiah of those who despise your ancient names. Yet where, Oh God, is the righteous king? Where, Oh God, is the great Paladin of Heaven? The earth rebels against mankind's transgressions. The masses are in turmoil, the sea roils with anxieties, and confusions plague the people. The land is poisoned. The air is fouled. The waters are tainted. Fire consumes and fulfills the vicious cycle. There are signs in the sky above and on the earth below, and many are the false-prophets and those who masquerade as messiahs. Wars and rumors of war abound, and the nations speak of peace and security, peace and security. There are earthquakes and woes, plagues and famines, the beasts of the earth devour, the grass and trees are burnt up, the oceans have turned red as the blood of dead men, the fish wash up upon the shores in mass. The multitudes mock you to your face, the nations blaspheme and make war upon your saints, the beautiful land has been invaded by the unbelievers and corruption rises to the very gates of heaven; the stench of humanity's rebellion chokes those who struggle to maintain any scrap of faith. Oh God, my God, holy and eternal, ever patient, and merciful, the dogs surround Jerusalem, the animal-demonic spews from the mouths of babes. The eyes of the infants are filled with hatred for me from the very wombs of their mothers, as if they know me and curse my name (the parents of the Nephilim are with me aggrieved). My heart bleeds for my brothers, my sisters, my family of the Spirit, who know me not, and make war one upon another. Ever those who despise you and your covenants grow stronger and more numerous—recruiting in every corner of the globe. How can anyone stand when the foundations are being torn asunder? "My little one, so quick to panic. Hastening to fear's door. Do you not know, and do you not understand that all these things are but a foreshadowing? The end is not yet. The time is not at hand. I only know the time and the hour, and I have not yet determined the day. Maintain your ways and be not dissipated or overweighed by such matters, which to you seem so very grave. I am not far from you, or from anyone who seeks me in Truth and Spirit. What can man do to you—when eternity awaits those who faithfully endure these days of devilish testing? The fear of evil is faith in evil." "I will act in my own good timing and none shall stand against me, and none shall stand who are not standing at my back." "Lowly little child of man, it is not your task to ask or to fret, but merely to fulfill your purposes in my plans, and then return to the realms of your origin." "As for those who call themselves my servants, but who kill women and children who are ignorant, who slay faithful and faithless alike in the names of divinity, these give their own souls to be destroyed that others might die and such ones belong to the Son of Destruction by their agreement with him. They are his to command, condemned to consumption by their unholy acts against the Spirit of Sacred Love." "Fear not, for Armageddon is not yet, and the dark prince of your time is not the last that shall appear." Your foolishness is altogether greater than my wisdom. Your understanding is more than I can grasp. I will praise you for your love and wait patiently upon your judgments, Oh God my God. True and just are your decisions, Oh Lord of Hosts. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 16: The Corrupted Ewe From my house (a house not a home) I emerged, a young man filled with hope, and beheld the earth being torn asunder. Lava filling the cracks, rivers of liquid fire flowing across the face of the whole world, burning away the abodes of men. At my feet, a stream of magma moved swiftly and the heat of it I could feel on my skin. Beyond it, I beheld, upon an isle between the rivers of death, a sword, ornate and golden, its point buried in the smoldering dirt. And there, encircled by fiery creeks, on its own isle a 100’ feet from me, I beheld a tender and frightened lamb, shimmering white even beneath the foreboding skies of red and black. The she lamb, the ewe, cried out for aid and there was no one there but me, to see its peril or lend it assistance. Yet, even as I looked, there arose three serpents, from three positions, as if the points of a triangle, from out of the rivers of Abaddon (destruction). Each had two wings, each with arms and clawed hands like powerful men, each with a cruel weapon of archaic fashion—one a trident, one a kris sword, and one with a barbed whip. One serpent was the deepest red, another was shining black, and the last was a sickly hue of green. The lamb was frightened and cried out, looking to me through sky-blue eyes filled with a plea. Overcome with fear for her, compassion for her peril, and indignation at those threatening so innocent a thing, I lost all concern for the rivers of Abaddon, and leapt across the first span, grabbing the sword from the earth. Yet the next flow was wider, and I hesitated, but for a moment, even as I realized I was too late. The serpents took turns biting the little ewe, and their venom made her stagger. Stains of crimson spotted the pure whiteness of her coat; and as I prepared to leap to her isle, the serpents looked at me and seemed to snicker, even as they struck at the she-lamb headlong. She had none to save her at all. They plunged headfirst into her body and writhed very quickly into her form. The lamb convulsed and staggered, shaking and choking for air, but did not fall, rather she was transformed. Her coat became soiled and mangy, her eyes burned as the flames of hell, her hooves looked as though they were covered over and became shod with iron, and terrible horns, like those of a goat, black and metallic in nature, grew from her skull. She had become something terrible and terrifying to behold, and there was nothing I could do to save her, even as I landed upon her little island in the midst of the fiery rivers. She walked away from me, treading upon the burning liquid as if on solid ground, and I slumped to the ground and wept for the loss of something so precious and good. The meaning of this dream God has revealed long ago, but I leave it to the reader to discern each for themselves. Still the sword is in my hand, and I pray that the sword is now in yours also, that you also shall wield it according to God's plan. What is left for us to do, but to slay the terrible thing, which has become the haunt of demons and the tool of the destroyer. To slay it, however, means that we too must learn to walk on fire as if on solid ground. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 17: The Door in Heaven The earth was covered in trenches, crisscrossing here and there in a maze-like fashion, a labyrinth of unending war. Within the trenches they fought, countless their numbers, in every part of the world. There were those in gray and those in green, their uniforms torn, and their banners tattered and scattered across the planetary field of conflict. Hand to hand and with all manner of weapons they fought, tooth and nail. Cries and shouts intermingled, weeping and the gnashing of teeth; their souls and voices filled with perpetual rage and frustration—for neither side could prevail. Skirmishes won, sorties failed, men died and rose anew to fight on and on. I myself fought in those trenches long and hard, their courses filled with muck and blood, mud and vileness. The entire earth was in ruins from the intensity of the fighting, which seemed to continue forever. Exhausted, weary, feeling the futility of it all, I slumped to the ground, my weapon falling across my lap, and looked at a distant height, a single un-despoiled ridge line. There grew trees and grass untainted by the ghastly scenes all around it; and it was there that I saw them appear, all in white, as if a choir of singers from the church of my youth. Each seemed to look my way, though at a distance I saw pity and comfort in their round and tranquil faces. Just then, from somewhere and everywhere, I heard a trumpet, a long and solitary note resound across the fields, quickly followed by another, and then a cacophony of several. So loud and eerie was the sound of them, that everyone and everything in the whole world seemed to come to an abrupt standstill, as all looked about perplexed, seeking the source of the resounding horns. The singers began to sing then, a distant and mournful chorus, which became within moments a triumphal, and soaring melody, majestic in its grandiosity. Those who were gathered there seemed to ignore the singing, and were about to return to their fighting, when abruptly a great wind blew across the battlefield stirring up the dust and ashes of the ages. Instinctually my eyes and my heart were drawn away from the singers to the sky above and opposite where the angels stood in their song. And there in the sky, above all the warring parties, stood an open door of radiant passage, as if hung from nothing and set into the air itself, though there was a corridor of light beyond the entryway. Within the corridor a man appeared, who was not flesh, blood, and bone, or even human in feature, but was entirely made of white and blazing white. I could not really say if he was a he at all, neither a she; but merely that It had the arms, legs, head, and torso of a human being, yet taller than any mortal man. There he, or it, stood, his head moving from right to left, as if surveying all that lay below in a long and steady glance, as others crowded into the corridor behind him, and seemed to be trying to look past him at the earth and the people below. I saw him shake his head, as if in dismay, and he motioned with one arm at the earth below and those gathered there. Not a soldier moved, not a warrior lifted or fired a weapon, but all fell down wherever they stood, in terror and awe, some begging forgiveness and others praising God. For the day had come, the hour had been struck, and time stood still before the face of the Lord and his heavenly host. It was then that I awoke and, though years have passed, the dream remains engraved into my memory, as sure as if it had happened, and as if it had been seen only yesterday. Its meaning I shall not decipher for you, and what occurred next remains to be seen; but the war has been going on from times immemorial and still it is waged every moment of every day. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 18: Abaddon's Appetite It was there, yet unseen. It towered above the mountains, its head brushed against the roof of the sky, felt, but not beheld by the eye. Its presence permeated the night air, a vague distortion against the atmosphere. All knew it was there, but where and whom it would strike, or what it held in store for each, was a terrible mystery that made the strongest among humanity weak with horrific anticipation. Then it appeared, shrinking itself so that it was the size of a tower, its skin an icy blue and its eyes two points of bluish flame, its hair a tangled mass of nappy black, and its clothing mere rags. Its stench was that of decay and its jagged teeth were thoroughly stained with the blood of countless prey, the nails of its fingers and toes yellowed and cracked with extreme age. Before it stood a dwarf, a man in feature, but very short, who looked up at it and forced a smile, as the little fellow began to tell jokes in hopes of appeasing the grim and ghastly giant. The giant laughed for a while, playing along so that he even took the dwarf upon his knee, and bounced him there as if at peace. Yet, without warning, still chuckling to himself, he snatched up the dwarf and bit off his fingers and nibbled away his hands, with such delight that one might have thought that the giant was eating candy, all without ceasing to giggle. The dwarf cried out, but there was none who could spare him the inevitable trip into the monstrous one's eager mouth, drooling with bliss as he savored the little comedian. People in the broken land ran screaming in every direction, hiding themselves here and there. One man sought to descend into the sewers, but the giant vanished, and as a mist simply went in after him, and the man's screams could be heard through the opening to the depths. A young man climbed a tree and tried to hide among its branches, but the giant appeared again, and plucked him up like a ripe apple, and into the stinking mouth of doom the youth was popped as if a tater tot. I stood there and trembled, fearful of my fate. Watching as some comely ladies, scantily clad, began to dance and strip away their clothing before the giant, as if to appease him with the temptations of their sex. He only scoffed and grabbed them up, one in each hand, and bit off their heads as if crunching on celery. As he ate contentedly of these would-be harlots, I slipped away through an archway of crumbling and ancient stone and slid then into the cold and shallow waters of a nearby stream and allowed it to carry me away to parts unknown. The giant, to my surprise, seemed not to notice, and I awoke fearful still. Believing that at any moment his hand would reach out and grab me in the darkness, his hunger never satiated, his appetites a bottomless abyss. Amen & Amen ______________________________________________________________________________ Dialogue 19: The Deluge Through a valley green and lush, buttressed by mounts and hills of red and pale rock I rode, from south to north, and by chance glanced to my left. There upon a spire, a tower of stone created by rain, wind and snow, there stood a figure as unto a man, bedecked in a hooded white robe, trimmed in fiery red. In a hand he held a staff, at his hip was sheathed a sword. He faced the vertical wall of a cliff, bare rock in the vague form of a great arching doorway yet sealed fast by the mountain's substance. He spoke to the stone, he raised both hands and gave it a command, his words heard even at a great distance, but spoken in an ancient and foreign dialect that I could not comprehend. The stone began to crack, and from it the water seeped, as if brought forth from a great tank hidden within the mountain's depths. His commands grew louder, and the wind responded as well, gusting through the valley and churning up the rain-hungry dust. The crack widened and a deluge burst forth; the cracks spread and the mountain itself gave way, as if in a volcanic explosion. The entire valley bucked and shook; the sound was almost deafening, as each neighboring peak gave way, and geysers of vapor and great tumults of water shot into the sky and began to race down in rivers to fill the valley. I fled, with companions, from this flood, up into the hills at the far end of the valley's length, yet many looked back, paused, hesitated, and turned back in fear for loved ones or possessions that might be lost, and in-so-doing were swept away by the great waves that rushed through the lower lands. I entered a vehicle with two companions, and we stayed just ahead of the raging waters; but before us lay a confused and convoluted maze of roads and byways. The roads led here and there, to camps in the heights, that were temporary at best, and I determined for myself, and for my companions, that we should stay upon the main route, straight north toward an unknown destination. Yet many if not most of those who had survived the deluge, instead fled down winding paths that led to dead ends and temporary camps, hoping to return one day to the valley, should the flood waters recede at last. In time we came to a village, pleasant and old, where life seemed slow and contentedly simple. One of my companions, who drove, chose to enter that place of refuge at the end of the main road, and there to dwell in peace and safety among people of fair and mild disposition. Yet I, and the one fellow left to me, chose instead to enter a tunnel we saw at the entrance to the village, and with torches in hand delved into the darkness within. Inside were many old bones and chests filled with treasures, but we turned not aside to examine them, but continued through the winding ways beneath the earth. After a long while we emerged into verdant foothills of stone hedged pastures, dotted by sheep and small stands of trees, amidst which flowed many small winding creeks. Everywhere I looked there were fruit trees, and fruit bearing bushes of many varieties. There too, were birds and wild animals (gentle their dispositions) going about their various sorts of business. Few were the people, save an occasional shepherd, and yet for me was a cottage, as if awaiting my arrival, all that I needed within it, and not a thing lacking. My remaining companion disappeared, seeking his own way; but there I lingered in my own proper place. So ends the dialogue of Uriyah. Turn not aside, be not snared by anything less than what can be reached—fairest pastures await those who endure to the end. Amen & Amen