“And Satan is worshipped by men under the name of Jesus” Aleister Crowley The Vision and the Voice, Cry of the 3rd Aether.
1 Lilith (Part 1)
He had only seen a bright red rose sprouting from a dead gray valley.
There was no sound, it was as if all sound had been vacuumed out of the world.
A rose in the dead darkness, but then the sun began to rise and he saw the gray fade into green.
His neck felt light, no heavy chain of the crucifix, no heat burning his chest.
No tiny sounds of machines or drifting brown clouds, the clouds were white and fluffy as the Sun lifted over the mountain.
A huge red rose lifted from the middle of the brook, he was standing in the brook, only now could he feel its cold water rushing around his ankles, the small pebbles under his toes.
A humming bird suddenly appeared in front of him, he could hear the buzzing of its wings against the silence of the valley.
“I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.”
His mother’s voice, so serene like she was still alive and without any fear, without any worry. For a moment he forgot, forgot he was shivering, naked, terrified.
“Do not be afraid”
He suddenly spoke out in his own voice, not in Bible verse, but still the old terror remained as if he was being watched.
“You are alone, there is no God where you are.”
With that the hummingbird disappeared, he felt himself filled with warmth, glanced up at the Sun, just a bright ball not an angry face leering up over the hill.
Now he could hear the sound of the water, but no animals, no birds, no insects, just the sound of the water flowing through the creek and the rustling of wind through the trees.
The Sun was warm on his face, he felt the warmth cover his entire body.
He wanted to say something but no words could come to his lips, he was silent, soaking in the warm embrace of the Sun.
This place was alien to him, he was born in the emergencies, he had never seen grass or hills, he had been carefully walled in, protected his whole life.
As an adult he had seen death, death was commonplace, but not green grass, he had seen the red of blood on pavements, the screaming of people in pain, loud angry voices of the violent.
Here there was nothing but the sound of the water.
But he liked to hear his own voice, no one to hear him, no device to record him, no machine to judge what he had to say no matter how trivial.
He wanted to shout something but no words come from his dry throat.
He had fallen asleep on the bus, that was dangerous, his crucifix was not charging and they could read his thoughts while he slept, they recorded the entire thing, but he must not show panic, that would only make it worse.
You must stay calm at all times, watch what you think because his crucifix was getting warm.
If he thought about it, let it make him upset or depressed, they would register more flags on his profile.
“Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me.”