“The more a people loses its internity, the more pompous and ceremonilized its outward manifestations (propaganda, narrow ways of thinking, thought-police guardians of of a certain necrotic orthodoxy) become—in the character of its government, law, and cult. But they should remain (internally) one in the knowledge: “WHAT I BELIEVE, IS WHAT I KNOW, AND SO I ALSO LIVE IT OUT.” For this reason, the ARYAN divine internity is also the basis for a PROUD DISDAIN for death AMONG THE ARYANS and for their limitless TRUST IN GOD and IN THE SELF…..therefore this RUNE (mystery) says:
“I AM MY ROD (RIGHT & MESURE, CUBIT), this ROD is indestructible!, BECAUSE
I AM MY (myself this solitary pilgrim wolf) MY ROD (Right & Mesure & CUBIT thanks to my Eternal Internity).”
Guido Von List’s interpretation thanks to a translation by Stephen E. Flowers
R.O.T.A. or the plenipotentiary existential rite with the energetic usage of the ROD, the infamous magic wand, is the only palatable & sincerely reasonable way to deal with the general ethnic CHAOS, creeping in on the doorstep of our INTERNAL homes of Blood. Paracelsus tells of its confection. He calls it the HOMONCULUS.
In sight of this, there are no longer any possible outward COMBATS physically imaginable without the probable refrain of dishonest intellectual misinterpretation so customary today in Our TIMEs which are now ideally ripe for the coming into being, of the Aryan Mage, a hidden & inevitablly discrete element for this inherently lost world. The psychosomatic chaos warrior with a real blood pumping in the mortal canister, cannot but nourish the Next World in Its Making. He is the actual God conscious shadow self-perpetuating itself between densities, within the blasphemous technocratic social institutions of the Zionbots. He knaws at what is left of the world’s unreal foundation built on the sands of artificial mortal matter & its imagined molecular fantasies.
We must become necromancians. Our reanimated dead & putrified bodies of tomorrow on the solutive wheel of coagulated fortune, to speak with the honoured dead, joining them in their regalian festivities ultimately in a place of our divinely made Valhallah Kingdom.
With a proud disdain for death, the dying earth so brittle & distraught in all its contours, infested in every part of its terrestrial anatomy by what is the most inferior sort of ‘human defect’ possible.
In spite of this…
I persist in holding upright the immortal sword of my internity, as I walk in and out, thru the Great Architect’s Maze, wandering as a pilgrim wolf in sheep’s clothing, inside this makeshift world of chaos that would uproot the the vital CORD (Hermetical Chain) of my existential being with all its potential good ORDER for a necessaryly HARMONIOUS hyper luminous incarnation!
Carrying on my humble yet hefty shoulders the terrible fault of living in this time within the spacial eugenic anomaly of this imperfect & make believe Universe of 183 Pythagorician Worlds (of a possibly unified field of dystopian disorder) : …of having done wrong and of what I have proudly done RIGHT according to what is the best in me of the Grail Blood still valiantly flowing in my veins. Of being of the Haughty RACE that makes me defiant, conceited & proud. Rather than to weep searching for some kind of prosthetics to prevent the TRAGIC END of our RACE (that would pretend to hold it up with a variety of epistemological tooth-picks!), on living unafraid, not constrainedly bowed down to some sort of supercilious puritanical catechismal handbook; I shall preserve & exalte her (the RACE thanks to my naughty pilgrim ways) avoiding thru her alchemical death with me, those filthy bureacratic clutches that have up till recently martyred the DEAR HOLY EARTH of the Arya & her SACRED RACIAL LAWS since my birth.
I have decided to take HER with me into the biting loneliness, across the great Abyss. Replacing the Architect’s so-called Golden Mean & Standard with a FREQUENCE of my own concoction using no libidinous bunnies.
To a haven of resurrected spiritual flesh, to an elsewhere, to a Summerland all enthralled by a rapturous double lightning to over & above the limitations of these Heavens overhead. Below & beyond the now empty cavities of the hollow earth.
Let the midgets down there fight to the death their own empty square root.
Agartha, Asgard is a very real place. Between Two peaks. Where TWO rivers meet. Under the New Dawn. Where a dead fish takes on life going for a swim into the watery waves of Eternal Internity. The path where Alexander couldn’t go, of Al Khidr, the Green Man.
I have been there.
When I die here, SHE’ll have to die with me. Then it’ll be time to take HER, to the next level, the eternal unending cycle of the Permanent Aryan Man, the kingdom of my Sacred RIGHT, Sacred CUBIT & REAL WORTH!