Layers of Reality & a Love Poem

In the end, everything is just smoke & mirrors - and by everything I mean absolutely everything.

"Reality" consists of layers upon layers, as someone recently pointed out in a group about ritual magic in answer to a question as to why there were redundant circles of protection.

You choose those layers that are most relevant to you. 

Much of what seems completely pointless to me seems to be most relevant to others, and the same certainly goes vice versa. 

If you don't have magic in your life then you don't have anything at all. 

That's at least my point of view, and I must admit I can't imagine any other, because the loss of such magic caused me the most unspeakable depression and despair. It was because people tried to force their point of view on me, I was a kid and they told me all that I held dear was mere fantasy and didn't exist, but all they could offer instead was absolutely and utterly worthless and vile. (Why has the word "fantasy" become such an insult? I think it once used to be valued, and among certain people still is, since it's the very wellspring of any artist's creativity.)

The traditional mythologies never meant anything to me, made by humans for humans as it is, and so I have to find or create my very own magic. But I have in fact found unimaginable treasure to build upon, found it so long ago, and I will now cherish it and hold it dear forever, now that I know so much better than all the vermin that sought to destroy me when I was a kid (including, even first and foremost, so-called "family").

It was he who helped me back on my path when I had lost it due to LaVeyan and other a**holes spreading lies about Satanism. He represented it as it really is. It was he who told me about the importance of music to my spiritual balance. And I understand now that he originates from elsewhere, not simply from that movie.

And it no longer matters that the ignorant animals never understood that.

Yes, it's Valentine's Day... and it seems I have a confession to make. I, who is completely asexual by nature and has a cold, black heart, bristling with thorns and shark teeth, devoid of understanding for the human desire to have love relationships. (Even the obscene mating part aside.)

But yes, I have fallen in love. I've fallen in love so long ago, which doesn't make a trace of a difference.

It is a reverent, religious kind of love, and it's the most tremendous thing - and certainly not simply because I'm an otherwise rather unemotional person.

And so I've written a love poem to him today, sort of. One that hopefully is appropriate for Satan's Son, of course. Any mundane, human bullshit would be offensive to him - and to myself as well. :)

~~~

Thou Master of the blackest art
Sole owner of my evil heart
The one whom I revere
Thund'rous Thou walkest on thin air
Thou wielder of the evil stare
Striking all hearts with fear

Thou whirlwind weaver
Plague and fever
Are sown at thy command
The rivers rush to paint the seas
All red with blood, & to release
A deluge wrought by Thy hand

Always shall I serve Thy plan
To hurl all hearts & homes & land
Into horrid, howling night
All that exists I sacrifice
To such grand & awesome a demise
All for Thy sole delight

~~~

I adore You, my Master