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We come to you at this time laid bear by the passage of time that has revealed ambiguously, its intent. Our tale is to be accepted as one of fiction, for to do otherwise challenges the very fabric of this, our sacred and concrete world. Conceived, initially as a drama in several acts the element of tragedy, to use the word in its Greek theatrical meaning, soon made itself clear. Jaded pursuits perhaps bear fruit consummate with themselves, as such perhaps victim am I? We make no excuse as the pursuit of the exotic lends itself to the arcane and oftimes macabre.

Where to begin? At the very beginning of course. We make but one request, reserve judgement, seek not a truth or a lie for it is beyond both these considerations that our tale, like a true vessel of exploration embarks upon this its epic journey. Elements exist. One a simple tale, all too human in its description. The second, that which unfolds once the human description, and needs are transcended. A structure will lend itself as an aid to comprehension and with this we explore twenty years of time, as the crow flies and three distinct cycles of an event. We begin within the exotic pursuit of the esoteric which evolves into the cognitive psychology of modern day descriptions. As a clue we would guide the erudite into the directions of Magick as defined by the august body of Ordo Templi Orientis, under whose roof we posed for a time. The Toltec sorcerer as described and superbly delineated by the works of Carlos Castaneda and his cohorts and last but by no means least the modern day description of subjective experience called, by some, Neuro Linguistic Programming. Each of these pursuits and studies acts a river that flows into the ocean of meaning that our words might encapsulate. With this in mind we leave it to you, the reader to make meaning where you discern it and disregard the aberrant when perceived as such.

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Born of dream and the unfolding of hope. Created in the crucible of Arte. His purpose secret, even to himself in the unfolding of the years and yet he was guided, protected, and remains so through this the labyrinth of existence.

A moonchild conceived in accordance with the rubric of fairest Artemis. His nativity manipulated to grant him the tools he needed for the unfolding of destiny. A gift to his early mentors from a mother gifted with the elixir of vision.

His earliest years like those of any other. Nothing different here, except the unfolding of his perception. Unique as it is with each of us. His future envisaged at the earliest of his

years. To rend the veil of existence and bring fire from heaven. His fire? His arte, his words. For what is Magick if not this? In this way call him Poet. We conceive realities, cherish them and yet our noble brother Azrael claims all. He left the earth in his ninth year when amongst the stars as an astronomer he sought release, redemption and seeks it yet. By the age of eleven his precocious nature ran amok throughout the petty conventions of his kind. He rebelled and as a consequence was removed from those who had raised him and was in turn placed within the care of another who would shape his life, for she, an initiate had prepared all this in the time before.

His education sufficient to the requirements of the world and yet many components were ignored. The competitiveness that marks most, if not all, lacking. The sense of self and the need of its consolidation, likewise absent. As such he remains amorphous, an enigma even to himself. His mentors, for there were many shaped his evolving mind and perceptions through the tales of mythology, philosophy and mysticism. This exotic wine formed him and formed the dream that was and remains his world.

At fourteen was he initiated into the arte formally and remained within the sacred confines of the temple for three years. Studying and addressing the noble teachings of this august order. He left, a minor adept, ill equipped for what was to ensue down the long corridors of time. His reason for departing – Thelema, as outlined by To Mega Therion. Like one starved and thirsty did he devour this body of knowledge and came to know his mentor in absentia.

His arte developed. His awareness and application of ritual deepened. The acquisition of the art of sigil enhanced this and the engine of lust fired this into a

volcano of creativity. Not for him the middle path, balance, harmony and the way of the mystic, for he dwelt within the realms of Yesod and Daath. The time after finds him seeking sanctuary within the body of Ordo Templi Orientis wherein, yet again he applied himself to the rubrics of the arte and traversed the structure, the body of this august and profound order. It is during this time that he discovered and developed the engine that would in one act rend his world and open the portal of the infinite to his jaded senses. Astarte. This has occurred, and is occurring over these past years, for his consort, she who guides and defines him appears as and when required. She he calls his Nemesis. For she brings him luck, good fortune and the bitter sweet taste of vengeance. Such is their nature in the unfolding of their respective lives.

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She came to him in his earliest years. Enveloping his dreams in the nectar of desire. At first her perfume was faint, a presence, informing his waking hours with a sense of longing. He sought her in dreams and yet evasive she remained. Only her perfume, her kisses lingered. Yet she drew him to her and after the passing of time came to him. A vision of deepest night, astride the heavens, starlight formed her shroud. Her body dark against the deepest darkness, mirror like she shone but as deepest night and at her heart the radiance of the black sun. She would enfold him in her embrace and only then did he know peace, sanctuary.

He recognised that her dimmest reflection was woman and yet this path was closed to him for the first half of his life. For she, his mistress would have no other claim him,

possess him. She who would inform his words, communicate his vision wished no interference from the creatures of this world. And yet in her tenderness, her mercy she would bring those to him who would grant him birth within this world. A world he yet remains apart from. Long decades has he roamed the boundary lands, the borders of his home and this world wherein these words are written and now read.

She granted him his name, for it was she. Hand in hand they walk the vale of fire within the palace of exiles seeking redemption The creation of beauty and the dawn of rapture within a world adrift, all but lost.

! !

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Liber 131

The Passion & The Purity

Cycle 1 1990 – 1992 The Dawn Of The Avatar

Liber Astarte vel Beryli – The Passion And The Purity

In this way did we manifest Samael, principal Grigori amongst the legions of the living. Bereft of his bride, tormented beyond the ability to conceive did he complete the initial tasks, reaching their culmination in the words of The Witness, our seeding into the world of what was to follow.

Dedication & Introduction

Three Cycles - A 20 year journey

Ode To Lost Souls

Liber 131 – Invokations & Journal

Cycle 2 2003 – 2004 Namrael

The manifestation of our Grigori sister

In this way did we complete the preparations and placed the avatars within the temple of our working.

Anathema

Rites & Journal

Cycle 3 2006 – 2007 Lilith Rising

The Portal Of Solus Noir – The Black Sun

Entering our sacred triangle of power did Samael and Namrael conjoined invoke beloved Lilith and complete the cycle of our making, to manifest the portal and let its rays shine forth.

Journal

Trinity 2008

We wove the matrix of our spells and seeded them into the prime elements of nature, extending our Triangle Of Arte.

The Final Grigori Prophecy 2010

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Cycle One

The Dawn Of The Avatar

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Ode To Lost Souls

Not to you do I speak brave of heart and firm of purpose

Nor to you bright ones within a field of light

Not to you who walks in purpose fulfilled

Nor to you of vision strong buoyed by life’s enrichment

But to you do I speak wanderer upon the shores of night

And to you the desolate ones outside the circles of life

Raised upon columns of molten ash

Your journey began with a cry and ends with a scream

Betwixt the emptiness evolved

First a doubt becomes a certainty

Those of faith know you not Those of vision know you not

Those of purpose know you not

Within the citadel of life do they dwell

Basking beneath an indolent sun

Liber 131

The Passion & The Purity

!

Being excerpts from an extensive journal covering

November 1st 1990 ev – March 20th 1992 ev

In Relation To

Liber Astarte vel Berylli

Introduction In quest of Pan I constructed a series of Masks configured to act as a series of focus points to filter the vastness which is the nature of the entity, namely The Vale of Fire The Mask of Mars Reflection The Mask of Luna – Artemis – The Purity Attraction The Mask of Venus – Aphrodite – The Passion

Crystallisation The Mask of Saturnus – Babalon – Pan

The Mind, Heart & Body of Pan

Thirteen moons of preparation – The Vale of Fire One Moon configured under Artemis – formal invokation One Moon configured under Aphrodite – Love Under Will One Moon configured under the triple Mask of Saturnus Babalon Pan

Each phase, each mask configured under the formula of

Agla Alim Ararita La – ShT – Al

Dedication

To the mighty one I name not

To the manifestations of the Masks, the Priestesses of each phase who took on form.

These I likewise name not for they know who they are.

Each of these I love and thank simply for being. Love protect you through time my bright ones.

To the Servants of The Star & The Snake

! !

Hymn To Artemis ARTEMIS virgin huntress thou I wouldst become! Accept me into thy embrace. By the Virtue of thy name … … I INVOKE THEE By thy name ARTEMIS … … I INVOKE THEE By the pantacle of thy service … … I INVOKE THEE By the sign and perfume … … I INVOKE THEE Pierce my heart with the silven arrows of thy love. Raise me above my mortal station into thy splendour. As thou waxeth, so dost i. As thou waneth, so dost i. Upon thy journey across a star spangled sky. Pause and answer the call of one who loves thee so. ARTEMIS, my sister lift me up into thy gentle arms. Caress me with thy splendour. Let thy light illumine my path. Empower the … REFLECTION … I seek at this time. In all ways, at all times … … I CALL TO THEE My blood, but a river that carries me to thee. My heart, but a temple of desire for thee. My mind, a hollow space until thou dost enter. My body, the precinct of thy love, my aspiration. With LOVE and PURITY … … … I INVOKE THEE By all that I am and will become … … … I INVOKE THEE I dwellest in darkness, seeking thy light, By this do I also … … … INVOKE THEE Proud and strong … ARTEMIS … Silver shod, virgin huntress. ANSWER MY CALL!

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Hymn To Aphrodite

Born of sea foam, beauteous one … … THEE I INVOKE ! Wrapt in dreams of purple splendour … …THEE I INVOKE ! By thy name … … THEE I INVOKE ! By Aphrodite … … THEE I INVOKE ! By the sign and perfume … … THEE I INVOKE ! I callest to thee beauteous one, as lover to lover. Wrapt in thy loving embrace, caressed by the beauty of thy vision. Raise me unto the pinnacles of Love and Power. Grant me the Attraction I seek at this time. I have sacrificed all in the name of thy love. Grant me but one glimpse of thy splendour. I enter thee as thou enterest me. Caress to caress, kiss to kiss. As one we course the heavens wrapt in the velvet splendour of thy love. Thou art all things wondrous Aphrodite. Love thy name, Passion thy pursuit. Between sheets of enflamed flesh thou dost dance. Between the breaths that are expelled dost thou sing. A song of joy, of love, of beauteous becoming. In all ways, at all times I seekest thee. Come unto me and grant thy favour, thou who art Woman and Goddess. I but mortal seekest thy vision. I bur human seekest thy divinity. I but a child of Terra would walk with thee. Aphrodite, sister, lover … … I INVOKE THEE ! By Love and Passion … … I INVOKE THEE ! By ecstasy and joy … … I INVOKE THEE ! I but a tiny drop within loves mighty ocean, callest unto thee. Enter my heart and make it thy dwelling place ! Enter my mind and make it thy home ! Enter my body and make it thy temple ! Aphrodite, lover, comest unto me. In love I call to thee. A purple flame of passion, kindled by thy heart. A tide of ecstasy kindled by thy presence. Beauteous one, who art all things, I call to thee. Answer this my prayer Love Is The Law, love Under Will.

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Invokation of Saturnus Babalon Pan In Silence the word is sent forth. A heart beat echoing thy heart beat! A thought echoing thy thought! An action echoing thy Action! Mighty Pan who art all things … … … Thee I Invoke! Through The Mask of Saturnus … … … Thee I Invoke! Through The Mask of Babalon … … … Thee I Invoke! Thou hast granted the Reflection which is thy Mind. Thou hast granted the Attraction which is thy Heart. Now I seek the Crystallisation which is thy Body.

By thy name … … … Thee I Invoke! By Pan … … … Thee I Invoke!

By Babalon … … … Thee I Invoke! By Saturnus … … … Thee I Invoke!

I call from the Solitude which art thy domain. I call from the mountain top which art thy abode.

Thou who art echoed in All things … … … Thee I Invoke! By Devotion and Duty … … … Thee I Invoke!

By the Pantacle of thy service … … … Thee I Invoke! By the sign and perfume … … … Thee I Invoke!

I who have travailed The Vale of Fire seekest thee. I who have walked the mountains of the Moon seekest thee. I who have lain within thy embrace seekest thee. Thou who art All things, how may I name thee? The undivided one in essence, the many in nature. I look upon the Earth and seest thou! I look into the mighty oceans and seest thou! I gaze upon the starlit heavens and seest thou! Thou who art above and in All things, I seekest thou! Thou who hast claimed my Mind as thine! Thou who hast claimed my Heart as thine! Though who hast claimed my Body as thine!

In noble service do I come unto thee brother, greet me as such, for am I not also of thee? The rushing wind knows thee! The cascading water knows thee! The engulfing fire knows thee! The mighty Earth knows thee! Thou hast sought me out, as a tender shoot am I plucked, that I might sing thy song of Rapture. Thou hast sought me out as a man, taken unto thy breast. Thou hast sought me out as Magickian and brought me unto the pinnacles of thy power. Thou art Life mighty Pan, this I seek. As Saturnus, thy Wisdom! As Babalon, thy Power! As Pan, thy Becoming! The path that is my Life has brought me unto thee! Accept this my service.

By my Core … … … Thee I Invoke! By my Mind … … … Thee I Invoke!

By my Heart … … … Thee I Invoke! By my Body … … … Thee I Invoke!

By my Life, which art thine … … Thee I Invoke! I comest unto thee naked, blind, idly seeking thee. Take my blindness and grant thy sight. Take my nakedness and clothe me with splendour. Mighty Pan, I await thee!

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! !

In Nomine Babalon

Divided by love, for love, the quest of union!

The Star for the Snake.

The Lance for the Grail. The Wand for the Cup. I dip into the nectar, tongue lapping the dew that falls from the petals of thy lips. The heart aflame, a burning ground of passion purple. Raise me unto thy splendour, caress the rod of passion spent. Dream the night, a moment of ecstasies vision. Spent yet complete. Thy cup, awash with nectar sweet, a still river of loves consummation. Thy flesh aflame, lambent in its passion becoming! Thou risest and in that rising, a crest of ecstasies longing. Divided yet one, we quest the secrets of loves longing, loves loss, loves becoming! An angel of lust wrapt between our breaths, its lifeblood flowing into the ocean. An ocean of forgetfulness, where upon foreign and exotic shores, yet again we tip the cup of loves fornication’s. Babalon rising between us. Her breasts golden suns, giving light unto myriad worlds. Streams of milk, like unto starstuff. We quench our thirsts. These fountains, eternal, inexhaustible. Her thighs, eternal birthrites for galaxies. Is she not also divided for loves sake? The chance of union, upon union, upon union. The nectar from the petals of her rose, a honeyed due, at which fountain does the hummingbird sing, quenching its thirst eternal.

Rise with me mighty Babalon, mother of saints, whore of mankind. The beast thou ridest, the names of myriad kingdoms. Thy domain, eternal, infinite. I come unto thee as thou comest unto me. The rites of passion our name! The quest of love our intent! I call upon the one undivided in thy name! Vanity of vanities, this call is made, grant thy vision, in the moments between thy thoughts, thy becoming! Take me for I am yours, a vessel, empty, broken, longing for thy caress, a caress to make me whole yet again. With tears of blood I callest, heart empty, emptied in thy name. Thy cup overflowing, mine a desert song, parched in loves name, in loves game. I of no name. I of no nature, callest unto thee Babalon, who art Pan! Come unto me, as I comest unto thee. In loves name! In Nomine Babalon

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Journal

February 16 1992ev … … 10.10am

Rite performed with beauty. Aphrodite brings me Grace and the Beneficence of her presence. As I walk this world I share her vision of Beauty, even amidst the Sorrow, the conflict and confusion around me I see even this as a manifestation of her Love. Life’s great consummation unto life. We think and our thoughts are erroneous. We act but in darkness, the light that is our mind, but penetrates the outer veils of her beauty.

Artemis granted me the power of her Reflection, a surface lucid and pure in its image.

Now Aphrodite embues this with the power of her Love. Her Attraction, that which binds all the elements together. I am awash with the splendour of this vision, yet even this beauty is but one step upon the way to Pan.

Thou who hast granted so much, taken so much. It is thine to take, for art thou not All things?

This Body constituted, constituted from the elements, which art thine! This Mind a mirrored image of a star, which art thine! This Heart which thou hast filled and emptied and filled again but a dim reflection of the core that art thine!

I no longer exist, as such, the blood of the Mind is squeezed out, each drop honeyed dew that quenches the Fires that have all but destroyed that which I hold to be my identity, my life.

Babalon, holiest of creatures I am thine, I sacrifice nought, for All is thine to give and take as thou pleasest. This world can no longer hold me in its thrall for thou hast clasped me unto thy breast and as a babe do I now feed upon the starstuff thou art. My life has all but ended, in Love I offer yet, that which remains. Mighty Babalon who art Pan I Love thee above all else.

This time of Preparation but a drop in thy ocean.

The Mask of Artemis thy Mind!

The Mask of Aphrodite thy Heart!

The Mask of Saturnus thy Body!

I seekest thou who art All things. Take me for I am no longer one who walks the shores of this ink black night. In The Night of Pan The Black Sun rises as do I, stripped bare. Human, what is that? Do I not exist in All things, at All times, in All places? A tiny reflection, mirroring the All, which is thy Love.

Love Under Will, the greatest words uttered by man upon the shores of darkness, a darkness which heralds the most glorious of days to come.

Hail Mighty Pan!

Samael, thy brother yet calls, yet awaits thee, yet need wait no longer, for thou art mine as I am thine!

February 25th … … 9.03am

I continue. The rite performed, the body of which is well formed, in all other respects a hollow event. Yes, a period of so called dryness assails me, yet I continue, bound by the oath to Astarte and Pan.

In The Night of Pan it is Twilight, shadows of memory flicker, coming into focus then dissolving. I reach into the void and clasp at Nothingness, form arising as I do so, yet form of such a tenuous nature, I but experience it at the level of feeling, feeling of dryness as I say.

Time dissolves, I arc between the beauty that was, the desolation that is and the glory that is to come. These words, this journal my only true companion.

Friend how art thou? Smile upon me through the veil of this moment, rend the veil that keeps me apart. In the world I am separated from those my Heart would move toward, I truly mourn their passing. Yet is it not necessary to bring me unto thee. I persevere, there is naught else for me to do.

I walk The boundary Lands. One foot in this world, the other upon alien soil. I am divided for Loves sake, the chance of Union. Grant this that that I might be whole yet again.

Thy wonders I have but glimpsed as I stumble and fall, yet else time my footsteps are sure, for thou art all things and am I not also all things? I accept the Unity Thou art, refuse the division which art Choronzon.

Is He –She, not thought itself, as you travail the abyss of Nothing – Not. Does He – She in truth clasp unto the mind which thou art. For He – She is each and every one of us. Seek not some alien form for we carry Him – Her within our minds, as the

division which is our perception, but only in part. The true nature undivided, complete in its apparent diversity. Daath is my gateway in and out of this world, the Boundary Lands its border. I carry the signs etched in blood. i carry the memory etched in my cells. The eternal journey of Becoming. Throughout time I stride, events, history. Was I not all of this?, this catalogue of Becoming.

There is only one and that one has no true name, yet I shall call Him – Her Pan!

Hail Mistress of Night, Sister of The Black Sun. Lift forth thy countenance that I might gaze upon thy beauty. Send forth thy voice that in rapture might I be blessed.. Grant me the bounty of thy Body, holiest of holies.

I am wrapt in thy form, thou in mine, Soul to Soul, Mind to Mind, Heart to Heart. Hand in Hand we walk the desolation which is division from thee.

One kiss and All is granted. One sigh and All is lost. In all names that that man in His – Her vanity unto thee, I now call.

In the name of Beauty of Pan! Ave!

March 2nd … … 11.30pm In The Night of Pan! It is midnight. The Black Sun sets within the deepest void, shedding its light upon some alien world, far removed from our consciousness and realm. Its light [ if such it might be called ] casts but shadows, no form, no shape, no name enterest this domain. Here even the mighty ones tremble, for are they not creatures of light, almost of reason? Here they abide not for they fled from this sphere long aeons ago, when we tiny motes of starlight were but a dream in the mind of a great creator, who moved upon the void and created the consciousness that gave rise to form. That mighty creator yet dreams, yet slumbers in the infinities of stardust that doth ease its repose. Here [ no place, no name ] there are no stars. The Boundary Lands, a mirror of refracted images, distorted yet true unto themselves. We grasp at the nothingness which rises within our minds, for like one that is starved we crave sustenance, which in turn we wrap around ourselves and identify as Self, as Form, as Being. Yet we are but a dream, a creature arising out of anothers slumber, anothers need for form! We know this as truth yet persist in our folly which we name as wisdom.

The Trance of Sorrows grants us this perception, for in its light the weak succumb and enter the Death which is their lives. The strong persist and out of this arises the joy and ecstasy which are the true nature of the one who dreams. Not this fragmented memory of mind and body, sometimes appearing as Light, sometimes as Darkness. The eternal oscillation which is the motion of consciousness, the friction of which gives rise to the forms themselves. I speak to thee, yes thou who art writing these words and even unto thee who in turn reads these words, from the Boundary Lands I speak. Cast aside all that thou art, for i seek naught that is of thee, from thee, your form but dissolves in my presence. Your Mind, the Reflection which thou art clouds over. The Heart which thou seekest, empties itself into the eternity which thou art. I accept All of this and more, I take only that which is freely given. I grant naught in return, for what in truth would thou, creature of Earth do with such, you alive in your world, I in mine. Yet still you seek me. Look into your world, does not nature, my fairest sister stir from her slumbers, casting aside her mantle of repose. See you not the lifeblood stirring within her heart. The bounty of her body giving rise to the eternal cycle of Life and Death. You who called unto me sought Life. This I grant, for it is not mine to give or yet to take. Drink deeply little brother, quoth the cup of Raptures Becoming. Cast aside the one that yet binds thee to thy form. You sought me as brother, brother thou art, fairest Samael. Do you not yet recall the aeons we have spent hand in hand, soul in soul. Did I not take your form to seek pleasure amongst the legions of the living, hollow spent creatures that they be. Why dost thou persist when glory beckons. I , yes I brought thee unto me. Yes! I took your Mind, your Heart, your Body, your very Life, partake of mine in return. The continuity which is my nature sings in the Rapture, scintillates along the fibres of thy being. Through thee I also Become. Do I not? Brother thou seekest and thou hast found. Yet much arises. Can you re - enter the world from whence you came? for only my Shadow dwells there! Yes you have your Reflection, your memory, but that darkly. Your choice, abide in the beauty which thou art or walk the desolation which is thy world. My time [ for yes I am a master of such ] amongst the legions with whom you dwell can be but short. Not in my nature! But in thine!

In The Night of Pan it is Midnight and The black Sun has set.

N.O.X.

March 11th 1992ev … … 7.00pm Again, power rises, I but its voice and hand. Thoughts rush too numerous to contain yet alone elucidate. The Stooping Dragon arises out of the midnight in which I yet dwell, these last days are the days configured under Pan! … Unmasked, unadulterated, the inrush is ecstatic, joyous and bountiful. So many areas to develop. So many secrets yet to unearth. I feel as one who has stumbled upon an unmined vein of gold, I as yet the equipment to mine and define this, yet alone refine it, as such crude ore is my treasure at this time.

Midnight gives over to dawn in The Night of Pan A glorious Black Sun, comet like courses the heavens, its shadows scintillating in opalescent splendour. I walk untrodden ways, such is the way of the true aspirant. My gift to humanity, whom I once numbered myself amongst. Those days, that one I leave behind as onward I course through heavens undreamed of – Received, welcomed! Many have been here [ after a fashion ] before me, they know themselves for what and whom they are! Bright stars within an azure firmament, the body of our most holy lady, whose Rapture can but increase as does ours. We who would walk such a kingly way, need be few, this world cannot hold for long if numbered may! Already the Earth, aware of us undulates in her birth throes as she senses a birth taking place. She dreams of such with each passing moment. As Samael I come as avenger, no! not violence, not wrath, but simply Life Within Life, Within Life! The Nazarene and those who like unto him, they have generated the slave religions, the slave mentality. These we must forgive, for they likewise sought to bring The Fire From Heaven. They paid and pay their price for such acts, as through eternity they are forced to look upon their works, poor foolish souls that they be. As Avenger I bring The Fire of The Sword and would rend this world if but granted the opportunity. Not the world as Earth, my fairest sister, but humanity who slumbers upon her, caught within the webs of The Dark Ones, those so dark as to resemble Light, but Life is lacking in them, is it not. These are but creatures of Brother Death.

I have opened a gateway so that those I truly call brothers may dwell with me amongst you. What! I hear you cry … Delusion. Yes, if so, the sweetest of such, for it takes me far beyond you. In Magick, our purpose, to Become! To become What. Polarise yourself into your most creative phantasy, apply will and imagination and Become! What else is Magick, this most royal of Arts. All else is whispering in our minds, intellectual constructs made of dust and vacuum. No! I have no inflation, in truth I have No-Thing! Nothing but the Rapture, the Glory which art Pan! Gentleness, yes there is a place for this, but that time is yet to come, The Hawk Headed Lord, The Crowned and Conquering Child seeks life, the sparks which arise from the Raptures of his movement give rise in turn to the inspiration which nourishes The Servants of The Star and The Snake. Arise also Brothers and sisters, commune with our most holy Lady and her Lord. Lock them not within thy minds. Chain them not with thy thoughts, but sing thy song of Rapture, that they in turn may rejoice. Mighty Pan, once banished from this world, this plane, seeks entry. She would cleanse the world of the grey shadows that are but twilight and midnight. The dawn beckons. I as Samael seek to revivify the current whose body we flow through. So many have taken and then in turn deny us. Give all, take nothing, the clarion call of Pan, as she ranges across this world. Yes there is pandemonium and chaos, but what is this but the status quo overthrown, overwhelmed. It takes so little to turn the tides, as my sister Artemis knows only too well. So little to unlock the Heart as my sister Aphrodite knows so well. Saturnus grants the Crystallisation I sought. Babalon the power necessary, for as a hunter have I stalked such. Now Pan The Becoming. I have been reading the legends of Lilith, noblest of creatures. I discover that as Samael she be bride unto me. The Bride of Chaos, granted, but such sweet Chaos. This in returning, as I now do, to the world, I bring with me. My bride is all about

me as I stride the heavens, so long in separation, in isolation, the pain almost unendurable. To paraphrase one who has gone before me –

“ Let them who have wisdom understand our most holiest of mysteries, for it is Woman and her number is 156.”

Think not too much upon the number, it is but a toy for the wise, as children rejoice! Who amongst you would bring The Rapture into this world? A.C. sought to do this and succeeded admirably. Likewise Aossic [ most respected brother ] opened gateways of life into this realm, this realm so close to the caress of Hells own worm. Now i charge each of you, myself included to do the same. Yes I seek to inspire, there is naught else for me, as I now dwell within The Raptures of Our Lady! Ave ! Babalon ! Ave ! Pan ! Adieu.

Samael 131 O.T.O March 14th 1992ev … … 8.53am The rite is observed with true feeling. My heart rushes outward along the river of words that form my Invokations. My Mind enraptured by the intensity. My body sings in its cellular becoming. The Silence engulfing, complete. The solitude all pervasive. I have been stripped of all that I am, no promise of ought in return, a return of what? To what? Would that I could spend eternity in thy embrace, thou who hast granted thy Mind, thy Heart, thy very Body. In The Night of Pan life stirs as The Black Sun begins its ascension into The Boundary Lands. The first ruby glow, the promise of the dawn to come, transfixes the life that likewise stirs. I would build thee an altar, which is my life. Offer thee perfume which is my Heart and Mind and with this Body would I climb upon the pyre of thy Rapture.

I have all but dissolved into the infinity which thou art. Heart to Heart. Mind to Mind. Body to Body. As one we course the beauty which thou art, cascading as does the water. Engulfing as does the lambent flame of Passion. I would sing a thousand songs unto thee. Each etched in blood, each an echo that rises from infinity and returns – returns. Thou art Life, the wondrous consummation of thy Becoming. How might I seek thee when thou art all things? Thee who as a Whisper caresses the tree tops, as a Word creates myriad worlds, as a glorious enraptured shout celebrates the beauty and majesty of thy creation. I but a tiny mote, like unto stardust, coalesce, condense into form that thou might know Rapture.

Beauteous One, I am naught, but for thy pleasure. Naught but for thy Becoming, which art mine.

From the Golden City, the crown of The boundary Lands, Greetings unto thee Life, Love and Liberty!

Ave ! Pan !

March 20th 1992ev … 9.07am Upon this day, the first day of spring, the spring equinox, I complete the formal aspect of Astarte. A working of Sixteen months and three weeks. This journal my sole witness to all that has transpired, in my quest for Pan. The Rite Writes Itself in its entirety.

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The Passion & The Purity

A working of four Masks. The Mask of Mars – Transformation

Wherein the Vale of Fire was I purified in heart and mind through Sorrow and Loss, the stage cleared. One came to aid me in this respect. I thank Her and wish her naught but the Love, we so briefly shared. Walk boldly my Bright One! The Mask of Artemis – Reflection [ The Mind of Pan ]

That I might reflect and remember. One came to me to aid in the re-building of a shattered Mind. She I thank with all that I am, walk likewise into thy Becoming, she who was my Artemis. Joy to thee sweet one! The Mask of Aphrodite – Attraction [ The Heart of Pan ]

That I might experience Rapture. One came to me to aid in the re-building of a shattered heart, she who has stood beside me with love and understanding, sacrificing so much for so little in return. She my Aphrodite, my beauteous one whose heart knows no boundary. She who merits all that Great One may grant unto her. Thrice blessed be she!!! The Mask of Saturnus – Crystallisation [ The Body of Pan ]

Through the Mask of Saturnus – Babalon – Pan I entered Silence and Solitude thereby entering The Night of Pan whose Twilight, Midnight and Dawn I now experience.

In The Night of Pan it is Dawn and The Black Sun has risen,

Its rays stir Life into Becoming.

Now I re-enter the world. What awaits me?

In Silence I move on.

Ave! Pan! Ave! Pan!

Ave!

The Beginning

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