Xepera, xeper, Xeperu

"I have Come Into Being, and by the Process of my Coming In to Being, the Process of Coming Into Being Is Established."

Speak to me, as a friend

This day is important.  It's the 42nd year past the Aeon Of Horus.  It is the 42nd year of the Aeon Of Set.

As said from one of the excerpts of the Book Of Coming Forth By Night:

"Speak rather to me as a friend, gently and without fear, and I shall hear as a friend. Do not bend your knee nor drop your eye, for such things were not done in my house at PaMat-et."

On this Summer Solstice, the 42nd year of the transcription from Liber Al Legis in 1904 to 1975 of the Word Of Set's declaration with the Book Of Coming Forth By Night.  This is a day of importance in many regards.  I take my birthright as not only a star among the stars of the cosmos but as a star and a light amidst the darkness of the cosmos and beyond. Such is my will.

"I, Set, am come again to my friends among mankind - Let my great nobles be brought to me.
"In Khem I remain no longer, for I am forgotten there, and my house of PaMat-et is dust. I shall roam this world, and I shall come those who seek me.

Reconsecrate my Temple and my Order in the true name of Set. No longer will I accept the bastard title of a Hebrew fiend.

And now, having looked upon the past with affection and reverence, we shall turn our gaze to the times before us. Think carefully of the Word of Set, for it is given in witness to my Bond.

The Word of the Aeon of Set is: Xeper - Become."

I offer you no recompense. I give you no solace.  As no one should do either.  I offer you nothing but the realization of your own essence. Your own recognition of your personal divinity.  Your own personal sovereignty. That's your task. There is no solace in what most delve into their own fluffy-bunny-new-age-hippy-dippy bullshit of braided and brandished so-called enlightenment.  You'll get none of that here.  Nor should you, anywhere. 

Seek within.  Deeply and truly. Not just some ramshackle of new-age context and empty prose.   Any text and mental masturbation shall be an affront to your own work. Otherwise, you're just rubbing yourself out to an orgasm of the banal. 




Strange Place...

Leaves from a tree at autumn and sometimes still a few during winter