In the cyclical dance of cosmic evolution we stand at the threshold of a paradox. The renaissance we await and work towards is not written in this present cycle or yuga. While The critical mass has been achieved; enough souls have torn aside the veils of illusion to glimpse the fuckery woven into the fabric of our reality. This is but the first act.

The resistant minorities wield their power through brute force by proxy, organized under the invisible architecture of belief, a fortress built from millennia of suppressed and hoarded gnosis. Essentially, despite the energy for planetary transformation is active, the next steps remain generally unknown and are locked away.

Where is the temple for those who walk this path alone? Where do we (can we) celebrate without fear? No altar calls, no dogma. Only the raw, unmediated transmission from the daemonic void itself, a direct current which demands no faith in others, only in the unshakable truth of one’s own reflective self.

Thus, to the open-minded with sight I say, fortify your self. The time for collective upliftment is still unformed, those stars are clearly unaligned. Until then, obfuscate your light as a secret seed meant for times and generations ahead. Move through the world with the discipline of the ascetic. Survive intact. Influence and meditate.

The old world will end, but the phoenix does not sing, it still waits. And waiting, in this case, is an act of rebellion.

Oorahhhhh.