In the cyclical dance of cosmic evolution we stand at the threshold of a paradox; the Renaissance we await is not yet written in this present cycle. 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, organized by the invisible architecture of belief, a fortress built from millennia of suppressed and hoarded gnosis. Essentially, the next steps for true planetary transformation are locked away.

Where is the temple for those who walk this path alone? 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 resonance.

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, hoard your light like a secret seed meant for times and generations ahead. Move through the world with the discipline of the ascetic. Survive intact.

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

Oorahhhhh.