The Aryan Dharma Wheel

 

The body.

   In the cellar underneath, where rats & vermin hide, scattered among the bones of your royal blood, flooding into the rushing chasms that fill your vanquished heart with ill fate & rending distress.

Bleak sadness in a dark solitude. Inside an invisible cave, dissolving the reticent corpse. No spot on the surface of this world globe to go to for comfort. Black walls of desolation covering the extreme antipodes of earthen eyes weeping egotistically and limited constraining visions on the horizon of a forgotten dusk spirit.

The soil of the soul is wet with untold tears of distraught despair ! Where can Hope deserve a dwelling but in your own sweet grave. All true friends and true brothers shall enter with you there. Within theirs.

It’s in a crypt one buries the cadavre. The Holy Cross above tunneling a passage way to the shiny stars. An Echo all around you replying to your solemn song. In a sound like a great vaporous ghost, the Dark One, your hidden self shall find. United in Un-Death, one single primal and supernal Certitude.

 

The Soul.

   Now it’s time to climb outside. Thru the Tempest at the Crown. The Al Father is the glaive you hold in your hand. You are its Active Awareness. The Great Spirit, its Aryan Soul. The body you had, transformed into a rainbow.

The Black Sun is the Mark of Real Conversion. The Sacred very Personal Place of a Second Birth.

12 steps from one state to the next. Spiraling from space-time floor to floor. These are the Reich Eagles that go beyond & come back, striking dread. Imploding.

The 13 in the Middle is beyond the stellar ceiling. Squeezed into a non-existing physical locality.

Now you can hold Death upon your head as a Bridegroom of Darkness.

 

A lantern anatomy of ethereal matter wearing linen, a golden cord at your waist. The Morning Star at the brow. A Prince of Lucifer. Dharma-dhatu.

 
« It’s when my Soul in all its emerald green returned to the ruined house down below ! In the gutted clay. Among the bickering. In a realm where innocence fled.

I wondered. Did the snail that I stepped on pardon me ? Did Odin finally lose his raving Mind after so much fitting & tiring damnation ?

There were dead crows on the pavement.

My spirit was mixed with sulfate, & the nitre made me drink more than I needed.

Flame surrounded me. I sunk into the residual bitume of all I had wished for, & did not attain ! I became the darkness that frightened the gods ! »

Who was harassing him ? Was it the brain ? The morphic resonance ? The devils in the waves, thrilling in the air above, all the naughty kids below ? Was it the J__ ? !! Or was it just the backside of his skin ?

Or was it what the worms eat, just like what happens in our gardens when the soil’s ready for planting vegetables ?

 

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