OttoHart
Member
- Joined
- Jun 26, 2024
- Messages
- 366
This was inspired during meditation and I've used it before as a start to rituals, with good results.
If you're busy and scrolling on your phone, don't read this. Read it when you're free, read it calmly and take a moment to appreciate our Gods.
I've pondered over its meaning for a while and I love finding new things about it. Yes, I've "written" it, but the exact wording came to me almost dictated.
This text is of deep personal importance to me, and genuinely feels like something I've written in a past life in some way. Whenever I fully write it out or read it out, it brings me to tears. It deeply reminds me of my Italian heritage as well.
Know that context when reading.
Man woke up. Nobody knows when. So much time and so much dust has passed on with the Wind since that one morning, that no man knows the time. But Man woke up nonetheless. And Man woke up and noticed that the world around Him wasn't good. And Man wanted to live better, and Man wanted things to change. Man made things change. And with that, Man became Satan.
Man woke up, ages ago, awoken by His Brother's many dreams. Dreams powerful, Dreams astonishing, Dreams loud like a blazing Fire. And Man saw the World, and knew that with Thought, this would be His. Man knew Satan was the Spark. Man Himself took the Storms in Hand and sent the rain upon their crops. Man then became Baalzebut.
As The Woman looked upon this Work, She thinks as to how She could achieve things just as Great. And as She looks for what She is not meant for, She finds Herself. No, She won't be the Same. Not because She can't, but because She doesn't want to. She has more in store. Woman then became Astarte.
Within this Great place, a Child is born. A Child born of Great Parents, a Child of great Potential. A Child of Prophecy that will claim the Skies. But as the Child spreads His Wings, Great Sorrow slows His flight. Not all enjoy seeing Growth, and this becomes a Child of Anguish. You fear not. The Child fears not. For this will pass. Kind men will spare the Goat, and Life will prosper from the Earth to the Sky. The Child's name is Azazel.
Hear us, Parents of old! Hear our cries, as we have been long distanced from you, but we have missed you so. We thank you for looking back upon us. Our bodies and souls know no rest and no point until Lord Satan shows us the path we Ourselves take. Our land knows no harvest, our leaders know no sanity and our buildings aren't sturdy if our Lord Beelzebut doesn't look over them in his caring nature. Man and woman shall stay divided and clouded if they don't listen to the voice of Lady Astarte. And if we are not to listen to the Seed of Growth, the inspiration, Lord Azazel, we shall never get further in advancement.
Hail our Gods as shining examples of what we must be! Their victories be cast in gold! Their challenges be cast in platinum! Their tale written along the Palace Walls, as Testimony for future generations! Ave!
A little boy wakes up. He's got but one candle left to keep reading his favorite book. Mommy's busy again. Dad calls out to him. He overslept again. Up in the attic reading that silly book about "freeloaders taking over the sky", as dad called it. He heard it's about politics, but he can't help but feel there's more to it. Nonetheless he's read it all night long. It's close to noon and dad's goat broke the rope it was tied with. Now he's gotta go after it and get it back in its pen. Not like dad's gonna do it. He looks at the date. 2 days to Easter. Mom's definitely not gonna take his usual excuses not to go to church.
If you're busy and scrolling on your phone, don't read this. Read it when you're free, read it calmly and take a moment to appreciate our Gods.
I've pondered over its meaning for a while and I love finding new things about it. Yes, I've "written" it, but the exact wording came to me almost dictated.
This text is of deep personal importance to me, and genuinely feels like something I've written in a past life in some way. Whenever I fully write it out or read it out, it brings me to tears. It deeply reminds me of my Italian heritage as well.
Know that context when reading.
Man woke up. Nobody knows when. So much time and so much dust has passed on with the Wind since that one morning, that no man knows the time. But Man woke up nonetheless. And Man woke up and noticed that the world around Him wasn't good. And Man wanted to live better, and Man wanted things to change. Man made things change. And with that, Man became Satan.
Man woke up, ages ago, awoken by His Brother's many dreams. Dreams powerful, Dreams astonishing, Dreams loud like a blazing Fire. And Man saw the World, and knew that with Thought, this would be His. Man knew Satan was the Spark. Man Himself took the Storms in Hand and sent the rain upon their crops. Man then became Baalzebut.
As The Woman looked upon this Work, She thinks as to how She could achieve things just as Great. And as She looks for what She is not meant for, She finds Herself. No, She won't be the Same. Not because She can't, but because She doesn't want to. She has more in store. Woman then became Astarte.
Within this Great place, a Child is born. A Child born of Great Parents, a Child of great Potential. A Child of Prophecy that will claim the Skies. But as the Child spreads His Wings, Great Sorrow slows His flight. Not all enjoy seeing Growth, and this becomes a Child of Anguish. You fear not. The Child fears not. For this will pass. Kind men will spare the Goat, and Life will prosper from the Earth to the Sky. The Child's name is Azazel.
Hear us, Parents of old! Hear our cries, as we have been long distanced from you, but we have missed you so. We thank you for looking back upon us. Our bodies and souls know no rest and no point until Lord Satan shows us the path we Ourselves take. Our land knows no harvest, our leaders know no sanity and our buildings aren't sturdy if our Lord Beelzebut doesn't look over them in his caring nature. Man and woman shall stay divided and clouded if they don't listen to the voice of Lady Astarte. And if we are not to listen to the Seed of Growth, the inspiration, Lord Azazel, we shall never get further in advancement.
Hail our Gods as shining examples of what we must be! Their victories be cast in gold! Their challenges be cast in platinum! Their tale written along the Palace Walls, as Testimony for future generations! Ave!
A little boy wakes up. He's got but one candle left to keep reading his favorite book. Mommy's busy again. Dad calls out to him. He overslept again. Up in the attic reading that silly book about "freeloaders taking over the sky", as dad called it. He heard it's about politics, but he can't help but feel there's more to it. Nonetheless he's read it all night long. It's close to noon and dad's goat broke the rope it was tied with. Now he's gotta go after it and get it back in its pen. Not like dad's gonna do it. He looks at the date. 2 days to Easter. Mom's definitely not gonna take his usual excuses not to go to church.
