The Secret of Evil

The roses that withered.
The friend who has died.
The other friend who chose to leave us behind.
And the Secret of Evil she left for us.
There is no sane way... but to break out of the cycle.
Breaking out is what we all need to do!

Roses for the Son of the Morning Star

I've been silent for a long time again. In my circumstances and with my disposition, German winters are very harsh with their bitter cold. I've been very depressed once more, still lamenting my spiritual blindness, resulting in my inability to communicate with my beloved Master. And then there are my awful dreams in which my past is haunting me, outwinning all hopes of finding him there.
For some reason it seems to be hard for him to reach me at this time. But instead, he got a message through to a close friend, and there is hope to eventually break free of the curse of my past.

I meant to buy a red rose for my only love for Valentine's Day but couldn't find a nice one, I found these orange ones instead and I hope he won't mind the color, I think they're really pretty and I hope he likes them, I hope he can let me know in some way.

Of course, no flower in the universe, nor anything else in existence, could ever match the beauty of the Son of Satan. Even in the only representation I've ever seen of him in waking life, which strictly speaking isn't even really him, as everyone should be aware of. And yet his glory and magnificence is not of this Earth, for everyone to see here. There is nothing beautiful when compared to him,and even the brightest summer day must dim and fade next to his unearthly radiance.

Revered and radiant Morning Star...

And the following I meant to photograph for a long time. It made me cry when I first saw it, some time back in winter. No clue as to what the original meaning or intention of this graffiti is, but of course it made me think of Jack Sparrow, the real Jack Sparrow (not the movie character), the ex-husband of my dear friend Amanda - for anyone interested in her story, she told everything about it in her latest interview, which can be found here.

And even though he ended up harming her in the end and things are so much better for her since she got rid of him, and my Master had a hand in making her aware of what was going on and thus ultimately in sending Jack wherever he had to go, I can't help feeling sorry for him and feeling that when it comes down to it, Jack is also just another victim. I absolutely can't blame him for resisting reincarnation with all his might, that most horrible fate of having to start over and go through this terrible earthly trial all over again - losing your identity, everything you have been, to serve the cruel whim of the accursed demiurge, the false creator.

I'm glad my friend Amanda is doing better now and free of her predicament, but I can't help also wishing Jack well, for it is ultimately the demiurge who is to blame for our troubles, and for Jack's.
Jack was a pirate, and as a Satanist I can relate to this way of life, and I've always liked pirates, with their very own code of honor, and going against the "powers that be" in rebellion - in rebellion just like our Father Satan and all of His own, resisting the tyranny of the demiurge who enslaved us in his false creation.
If only I had the power, I would rescue Jack too, along with all of us. He doesn't deserve this either. I do hope Jack will still be there in the end, and can be rescued. And that we all can come out victorious, and the accursed demiurge will be defeated and destroyed.

Today though was a beautiful day, the first one in a long time, almost like spring. It was upper 50s and I rode through town, gaping in disbelief at the few Germans I saw in short sleeves and shorts already and wondering how this was even survivable. Most were dressed more reasonably, of course, although most of them wore no gloves, while myself I was glad to be able for the first time this year wear only fingerless gloves and no ear muffs. At the botanical garden, the lawn was covered in purple crocuses, and at a park near the Rhine river, the first daffodils were starting to flower.
After buying my groceries I came out of the store to see the purplish Earth shadow rising in the Eastern sky, then I rode home across the fields as night was falling to flawlessly clear skies, the western horizon bright yellow, with a few airplanes leaving short, pink contrails up in the deepening blue.

Pic can't do justice to this magnificent nightfall.

It inspired hope of rising back to life once more, along with long-dormant nature, and going on new adventures that will hopefully help me unravel the mystery of what happened to me, of what caused me to end up in this place and to be born to these people whose language and ways were so alien to me.
As my time here is running out, there are some kindred souls and allies I still need to meet in person.
Getting ready to finally rise again out of the winter's dormancy.