EPL; Esoteric Principles of Light

Friday, August 18, 2023

The Dark Place 2

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL It’s already in your mind. It’s a part of your soul. Your intent. Your true self. It knows you there. There there is one mind shared. Some of the lesser ones hide from until they are summoned. You have to be sharply intelligent and brutal to access the mind. Imagine 10 billion kamoto dragons fighting and gorging one another over rights. Aye the most brutal set the course. It’s he cowards live in the hell the life limbic adrenal reactive animal with shrewd gnostic wisdom is a terrible thing indeed. Scientist in live science on. Engineered, developers go on unimpeded. There is nothing like God, Angels orcSatan here. The ugliness of slaughter. The genetic slop. But in the endless pools of stain and murk of mire condensed power of trillions of dark matter turned souls. All knowledge lives on here accept for the good. Nothing pure here. When one has lost the tracings of what that even means. In dreams they came to the many. A promise of power always snagged men like fish. They decide who reembodies now more than ever. The stars of darkness align for them. They know us because they are us. They are us and so they shape us. Believing edicts and over pure principles will leave a soul in rot. Now earth is a carbon factory. It happened to many other planets where unseen pools of death leave ruin. carbon rot and carbon death. The other side reached out with its long spidered fingers and made deals in deceit. The riding living men as if a prison code of brotherhood should drive them to conform to gang ritual for rights. Only the principles of war and much war to go. The power of death in technology. The black ooze running through arteries in machines like oil. A plasma concentrated death that wanted appendage and cause to be alive but never felt the living again. Arbitrary ductillio ardent rules of order. No angels if they exist claim rights and nothing good would come.

The Dark Place that we go 1

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL What you’ll become on the other side We gave birth to them. They that dwell on the other side. They are the culmination of a spiritual evolution most of us were at least consciously unaware of. That we were contributing directly to this troubling manifestation. We think of them as malevolent twisted evil beings and that may be the case. I can not argue with that. The fact is that these are the very byproduct of our energy and what we truly are underneath. Yes underneath the skin and within us. They are us, they know us. You see there from that place of the dead they can see the truth. They see the substance of the truth, they live inside it, swim in it every moment there. Are you getting the picture? Thousands die each day. Who do you think judges you there? We like to think, No fantasize that these ‘beings’ are alien to us. An ontological trickling down of the metaphysical imprint we leave on them, the stain. Everything we touch and every where that we go not only our DNA but our essence builds into that place the middle. Once I’m sure that place where we stuff dirty cloths and discard trash was Devine and sacred. Hell it was probably so beautiful you might have called it heaven. No it is the culmination of billions of dreams and dispositions of the soul. It’s where we go when we die. There is no happy place because we have not made one. Instead the toxic hatred that we feel each and every day towards one another goes there instantly. Because it is here. It’s what here really looks like. Each sacred moment of every day that slips away. You might ask “then how do we clean it up?”. You wouldn’t be wrong to ask, many have asked it before. It isn’t long before they forget entirely. Instantly they are back to their own ways as those demons look on. Standing right next to you, some walking straight through you as apparitions. The most abused bent and twisted. The most psychopathic and maligned of them will stalk many of us from cradle to grave, meet you in the other side. They are waiting. That ever thinning veil of carbon of you’re current body skin. The nitrogen in that fleshy meat that you mistook as armor once. Mostly though the thing that gives those stalking murderous types a chuckle? Your eyes. Those big reactive peepers. You can’t hide much when those things are bouncing down the road jarred from your head from a violent collision. They like the violence. After a while it even bring a smirk to the shy ones faces. After all how could it not. You know we have this strange habit of putting on this paramnesia of mind as if it were a protective cloak. We smile and lie to one another as our thoughts glow there. Our hearts betrayal beating and pulsing. Blood pumping and creating all that metaphysical pressure. Like an X-ray they can see that true self as if your spine and nerves were the shell of an octopus or an empty zombie spider. Layered there your now temporary glands secreting fear, anger and lust. If you could see the gem like the view you oh boy. They are what you’d be without limits. Absent of restrictions an end to slow regressions. It’s as if you aged a billion years in the black quagmire of death and rot. That’s what that place is now. Valleys of thick black molten ooze. Death I’m sure once was a harmonious celebration when the veil between worlds was not even further obfuscated by them. They set up barricades and have technology. They plan for the very moment as they watch that clock above your head “a ticking time bomb” he’ll they can smell it. They can smell you. Al that dominion and Grace to freely cross between worlds. No boundaries or restrictions on them. Did hose who went into the long rot and became the most cancerous puddles thick black darkness knew. Hell they built this place. It’s funny how we begin to act like things we once thought beneath us in life. Crawling like insects and morphing into the darker version of your metabolically powered dreams. These are your children, your parents the once you once adored and loved. My how you turned on them and in turn most often times they turned on you too. Chances are you won’t be saved. The nice ones in life are often the most conspirating. Weaving webs of lies. Oddly the ones who know themselves and feel no remorse do well there compared to the rest. The narcissists melting into the most vile forms but recollecting their former structures (somewhat). It’s who you’ll be in 10 billion years that greaves me most because time doesn’t exist here. There is no light. Only the negative feedback from generators and the pollution from machines become the yellow glowing clouds above. Sometimes the crows fly through and greater birds once ceremoniously invited in ancient rituals of transformation and passage were given free roam here. However they only come to this part of vacant space in I search for misidentified ones. You know good ones that became darker near the end that only needed a nudge of reminder that they didn’t truly belong here. The darker place. There is a Heaven set aside for some. It’s sort of known but too obscure. So few go there and maybe no one now? It’s elluded to in ancient stories and oral traditions where the elders or the people or gods (some call them angels) of the great light have a darkened forbidden valley. When they feel darkness from it they can rain a wrath of storm and misery in that leaves the dark place swampy for eternity. Lots of bad people. Hell you are more than likely one and aren’t even aware. Because awareness is the key. Aborted fetuses with such bright futures torn and ripped apart by commission. They watch as there barely formed tiny bodies are thrown in bags and picked clean of vital cells. No mortician vies for them. They watch on and learn. They watch you over your lifetime of what you’ve done since the epoch of their short little time. We bend and twist trees there too. It’s not just the people that turn like weeds. Some trees here on this side share distinct rot and darkness from there. Hell you may come across one for yourself that smells of sulfur death and oozes out that black mar. For this place ‘the darkness’ is still sacred. Sacred is is what sacred does. How bent and twisted we are indeed.

Thursday, August 17, 2023

Gods Wife?

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL Declarative Statement We move move beyond edicts and therefor conjecture as to what an authority figure is. We are taught that an actionable deed must fundamentally go against our preservation of Purity. A persona emerges that does not best represent the self within. In contemplation we realize a fundamental breach has been done to us. A casting of a 4th entity upon us as to keep life on a syllogistic 2-D track. To uphold a rudimentary process in procession. Always yielding to the archaic mechanical process. Who knows how long it’s been. Turning like that in such a way? Staying in it’s time deliberate. Where man at his worst is man at his best and so woman followed too. Each a reflection of a projected self that was to be assume as grand and beautiful. But in reality a living justification of what lies beneath. Beneath the surface is where we look now to. Those who would never arrive at such profound truths called a brotherhood, sisterhood expecting a free ticket a payment of deeds for the show. The seed of man is this vile. As man replicates himself he is truly acting out the atrocities done to him throughout generations and how he now inflicts this abuse upon himself. I would not be at all surprised if such an identity such as God existed once long ago. That those demons in perpetual rot were once made as to protect a place like heaven that may not exist any longer. That the paramnesia of that forever place is not unlike the experience from a lethal neurotoxin. Inflammatory mortally inflicted damage; death and dying hallucinations. Like the intoxication from a secondary plant metabolite. I have often thought that the brain stem, limbic system and glands only keep the rest around to feed the fantasy. The mushroom most assuredly will sprout up from the animal kingdom again somehow somewhere. This as the contagion we refer so callously as life here seeps it’s way through and across boarders. As it’s demanding presence of ‘notice me now, I am the center to all things because I feel____(special?)’ then the syllogism of reply “we’ll I am special”. As no question of master morality ever entered her mind. She is ruled by the glandular carnal cymatic frequency of 6.66Hz. Her ache to be wanted and be validated always is that black hole abyss. Those who defected become scientific minions to rationalism. In proceed life their spirits are the very demons in the cyborg demonic suits that do things in the name of science but never to question why. Simply they do not know therefor everyone does not know . They are a non sequitur deviation point. Where slime molds and single called evolution on through ribosomes and lives of a cell equal certain death. Only in that place on the back side, the dark side of the inverted pentagram could process take presidency as edict over virtue through Principle. The virtue of which I speak is not an existential display of ethics but is the intrinsic ethos. The self in working polymatter. Monad and all it’s pain exposed to ignorance as a familial stalker. She is that Faustian deal. It doesn’t travel any further here now. In the here after she is that consciousness fragmented and divided. Any illusion of heightened experience could bed her because the instrument is a working within the whore as the very representation of the inverted satanic pentagram. She is Satan Eve, Lilith, Cybel, Circe are just Witches in practice. Tiamat, Lamashtu, Dimme perhaps the three sisters? They work together relishing in the deception alone but always at the breast of the flock. So very many stories to convey over antiquity of time. The drama she creates. Disorder and entropy as an electron kicking up the dust. No other world of principle would keep her alive nor even in a vault. She is all women and like a robot witch behaves to promote women kind. Oh how masterful the Spider weaves its web. Nothing genius required but there are explosions of genius there. No unit of time should have ever given credence to her. No one should have ever extended grace to the lying old witch wearing the face of that plump and ripe hormone driven youth. When it leaves her the story is the same. She is an empty shell awaiting a ride exclaiming “again, again!” Birds of a feather flock together. She will return to her origin somehow some way. A malevolent consciousness that predatorily and parasitically feeds on Pure Source of Man and his Principles. Now man has been breached, hacked if you will and willingly too. Divine prefer? A system of control? A periodic table? Now She takes over the room like a pangloss teenage girl in wonderment over herself in explosive hormone upheaval. There are those things that move invisible in the night. Moving, raping and morphing man into something else entirely. Man made from the flesh of God? Perhaps just perhaps God didn’t approve? OR in some folklore Gods Wife Murdered Him-