Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
dwkglynrde5@yahoo.co.uk
Book 1
A Visit to an Island
Book 11
At what price a city is born
Book 111
The Path to Glory
Before now and after
Part 1
A visit to an island
There is, like hawk on fire, a sword
Curved; its blade rolling;
Stalking the seam.
A feather on a shield held high
in a rock or stone
Shimmering.
Like water falling
on a blue, empty pass,
True and high and rained.
Falling, curving down through this flower
This flower of fire
Blooded and fallen.
Its face and roots,
its clawed and hooded
stone fingers like poses
Of fire, of water, of magick.
Pond like, wide and deep, as the sea.
Deadly.
real name.
the chance of
the directions on
the island, just
565 A.D
In the course of time Constantine became what he
sought; the first Holy Roman Emperor. From that
day artists were instructed to depict him as a
saint with a golden halo encircling his head. It
was the representation of Constantine as Mithras,
the Sun God.
Cities were named after him and in the following
years successive emperors took residence in one
of these, Constantinople. Emperor Justinian built
his magical palace there far from the eyes of
greedy and inquisitive politicians in Rome.
Constantines plan was perfect, on the site of an
old temple to Mithras, a huge cathedral had been
built back in Rome.
The people were told that this was the place of
Saint Peters death and so it was called St.
Peters basilica.
Placing the running of the basilica in the hands
of flunkies the head of the new order could
please himself; Justinian did just that. The
people knew that he was the head of this church
TWO:
For what price a city is born
Waves of pale smoke, like shy ghosts,
rose from copper incense burners that marked the
four cardinal points in the room. A dark room,
small but airy, it was painted red and gold; the
colours of war and finance.
The room had no windows and the only source of
light was the single candle that burned brightly
on a golden altar situated in the centre of the
room. The altar stood grandly in the swirling
mists thrown down from the incense burners like a
mystical castle rising from a lake of veil-like
vapours.
To inquisitive eyes the room seemed no more than
a host to the altar, protecting it like a cloak
from gaping eyes. Protecting it from those who
did not and never could understand its purpose.
Without the altar the room would be nothing.
When the sulphur mist cleared here and thee one
could see under it a royal floor of fine marble;
white with a black, green and vermilion inset.
Two concentric circles were marked out; they
encircled the altar and almost touched the legs
Ateth...
He then finished the chant with the motto of the
cult. Love is the law, love under will.
The tutor left his abode on the stroke of eight
and stepped lightly across the green towards the
main house. After climbing the back stone steps
he entered and walked confidently through its
great, imposing halls.
It had been three months since the boys magical
education had started; three months sharing the
basis of a lifetimes work and knowledge; still
Kiffer pondered; he had a further five years to
mould the boys interests.
He approached the boys quarters and tapped
gently on the door to the room they had decided
would be the classroom. After a brief interval a
voice called from within and he was asked to
enter.
Good Morning Mr Kiffer. David said as the tutor
closed the door behind him. The boy was sitting
at a large desk having been washed and dressed,
fed and watered by the staff and he looked very
studious except, as Kiffer noted, for a comic
open upon the desk.
Good, the man sniffed. Good for whom?
He walked across the room and took a piece of
chalk that lay upon an easel and started to
scratch a word upon the board the easel held up.
After looking at the word for a moment the man
turned to the child and whispered softly.
Today we are going to talk about the Kabala. He
paused and David thought he saw a smile cross the
mans face but looking closer it faded into a
snarl.
Christos? They
of power. Their
a chemical smell,
his nostril.
still hallucinating
flashes of blue and green
silken robe as he
He pulled the soft
on the bed.
eyes
the
him
lips
was
Part 111
The road To Glory
Go prostrate yourself
at the knee of your master
be a plaything of men
and wander a painted harlot;
ravishing with sweet scent
and Chinese colouring in the streets.
Darken thou eye pits with kohl
thou hast tinted thou lips with vermilion;
Thou hast plastered thou cheeks with ivory
enamels.
Thou hast played the wanton
in every gate and byway of the Great City.
The men have lusted after thee
to abuse and to beat.
They have mouthed golden spangles of fine dust
Wherewith thou did bedeck thine hair.
They have scourged the painted flesh of thee
with their whips
And you have suffered unspeakable things.
But I have burned within you as a pure flame
without oil.
In the midnight I have been brighter than the
Moon,
in the daytime I have
exceeded utterly the Sun.
In the byways of your being I flamed and
dispelled any illusion.
Therefore
Thou art wholly pure before me,
therefore
thou art my virgin unto eternity.
(Kindly reproduced from: A.C The Holy Books:Liber 4)
grey eyes
deep breath
of the
of 00.6,
The others took their hoods off and the boy saw
that some were young and others were women. They
were all very white skinned and seemed relieved
that they could breath the air. The elder man
looked at the group and continued to address
them.
At last he said. We can come out from our
underground prisons and live in the light of the
Sun; today history is being made. Today we can
rise up from our pits and take our place in the
new world order we have created. Today we can
become kings over the land and rule again, in the
name of our God.
Upon hearing this, the boy turned and crept away
from the scene, hearing the others clapping in
the background. He crept through the trees like a
scared animal running from a predator; in fear of
those white faces and those grey steely eyes.
He ran as fast as he could back to the village.
He did not understand quite why but he knew he
wanted to get away from them, to gather his
belonging and find some remote place he could
hide away in. He ran and as he did so a mighty
roar filled the catacombs beneath his feat; a
cheer rang out among the steel and concrete, the
Under grounders were coming up.
and the small boy he cared for. This was the boy
who had once hid behind a rock when the strangers
emerged from their deep underground military
bases. He had gathered his things; including his
father, and they had run here to this place.
A well had been dug and a lone pair of hands had
watered the small crop which was sown. In the
thick forest a farm now grew from the land; they
were happy there, the boy and his father.
Son! A voice echoed through the trees.
Neits, my boy, where are you?
Here father. Neits answered. He looked up from
where he was sitting towards the hut in the
clearing beyond. Im here, with the goats.
He saw the top of his fathers head come over the
small hill that separated him from the hut. As
his father approached he thought about the time
that had passed since they had arrived in this
lonely, beautiful place.
He had been eight years old and his father had
carried him on his shoulders most of their
journey to that place. He remembered how they had
lived in a tent until the logs for the hut had
been cut and the well dug.
How great it had seemed to at last come in from
the cold and light a fire in the hearth, how safe
he felt there. He remembered, in the mornings he
would open the hut door and find wild animals in
the yard, visiting the new residents of the great
forest and was amazed at how tame they were.
The only thing that had disturbed his happiness
was the memory of the day he had seen them come
from beneath the earth. Those white faced
monsters with their plastic suits and machines.
Now, the only time he saw them was in his dreams,
he would wake up frightened and his father would
have to comfort him back to sleep. In his mind he
huffed.
a right one. The monster
behind the desk snapped. Put
in the box and stop messing me
as the shadow
an exotic
to himself.
good and
looking
Plank, Mongol
doing and
head to toe.
a basic
This is
of. You know
isnt the time
THE END