Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Kolbrin - Book of Scrolls - Chpt 14 - Sacred Registers Pt 14 - Yonua

Worth contemplating. A good man sees his worthless wife in the after life and can do nothing for her except to forget.  

What i find missing so far in these documents is the presence of the possibility of repentance and forgiveness in the afterlife which we do know from other sources is also available.  So hope is not banished in hell at all but merely rarely accessed.  Perhaps that will change as we progrees.

However, the lack of just that lends support to the  plausible pre christian provenance of these scriptures.  However skeptical we want to be, we are also been presented information not available in the form of the comet impact that correctly resolves real questions that were troublesome without instruction.

It is possible that one item could have been successfully invented from whole cloth but a whole culture and history?.


Away from my eyes, O Hideous One. Slink back into the dark shadows about the black sunless abode where dwell the self-distorted souls of the Fearsomely Formed Ones. Back to your murky haven of sombre compatibility.

[ This is an exact description of what we have learned so far of the architecture of the other side said differently. - arclein ]

Away, out of sight, for your repulsiveness brings back into my heart the thoughts of evils and temptations I have encountered and overcome, thoughts which I now so gladly forget. You poor, doomed fiend, mis-shapen, homy- headed, slit-snouted, stunted in arms and legs, horrible to behold. What dreadfiil thoughts and unclean deeds must have been yours, to fashion you in this manner!

Away, back to your own kind, back from the twilit border where you lurk fiirtively, afraid, pitifiiUy seeking a ghmpse of the bright joys denied to your own folly. Back to the place with which you have pitiful affinity, back to your own dark, compatible companions.

The Guardians of the Hidden Gates repel you, lest you befoul the pathways of the Glorious Ones who once struggled to find beauty and cleanliness. The light of this place is ever spreading, and soon a Glorious One may walk where you now slink in the gloom. Back, back from the dividing flame, back into the sad comfort of enveloping darkness. Back to your foul companions in misery, back into the mercifully enshrouding gloom.

Your fate saddens my heart. Can you find consolation there, hidden in the comforting darkness? Does a kind word ever lighten the burden of your days? Is there a place of rest among the slime and excreta? O Fallen One, who once walked Earth so proudly in self-esteem, selfishness and arrogance, go back, torment yourself no more with the sights of beauty and joy which lie beyond your reach. O Wriggler in the Slime, back from the purifying flame, what can it avail you now?

O Repellent One, who by wrongdoing and non-good doing thus cursed yourself and were delivered into the comfortless arms of decay and filth; who on Earth appeared arrayed in such deceptive softness and complacency; who dwelt amid pleasure and luxury, away, back into the shadows, hide yourself from the pure gaze of the Glorious Ones.

O Squirming One, turned back are you, the shameful flesh is unworthy even of the flame. The unshapely mass, unchiselled by the forming blows of self -discipline and selfless service, unmoulded by the touch of compassion and love, unpolished by conformity to the burnishing blows of sincere goodness, has no place near the region of revealing light. See, are you not seared with pain when the pure light falls upon you? Miserable indeed is your lot in that dread, dreary abode!

See, your slimy hide shrinks from the pure glare, it splits, it cracks, back, back into your dark cavern with its floor of slime. Back out of sight, out of hearing, back from the pure gaze of righteousness. How miserable the lot of one who finds unconsoling comfort in the depths of dread darkness lit only by shadowy gloom! How awfiil to dwell in companionship with distorted shades!

What became of the loveliness which once clothed you on Earth? Whose fault that you brought it not with you? Did you ever pause, even for one moment, to gaze into the self-revealing mirror within you and see the awful creature you were forming? Amid your pleasures and luxury, did you not think of the wellbeing of your inner self? Did you not care?

O if 1 could but help you now, but the hideousness was set firm in the furaace fire of death. Then the enveloping flesh was stripped away and the hidden horror within the mould revealed. As the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis, so should the soul emerge from its earthly body. An unnatural thing like this was never intended, yet you freely made the choice. Not a single disfiguring line was made by another. 

[ wow - well written - likely poesy in the original - arclein ]

What words are those which rasp forth from the unlipped, fish-shaped mouth? O ears, say you deceive me! O heart, cease this pounding clamour! O hand of horror, release your awfial grip! Would that I could swoon, that I could find relief in unconsciousness, but facts have to be faced here as on Earth. I must look in trembling terror.

Yes, I loved on Earth, nothing there was more precious to me than my sister in love. I forgave her wilfulness and was not stirred up when her words were unkind. I ever remained a man of cool temper. I clothed her well and good food she never lacked. My heart sang in her presence, 1 rejoiced in her loveliness, she was my life, my wife. Yet she was unfaithful, she was cruel, she found pleasure in deceit and perversion. As the years passed they became heavy, clouded and bitter because of her wayward ways.

O horror, O terror, O cringing fear, keep away from me! O my eyes, O my heart, it is true. It is the one I loved.

O let me die once more, that consciousness may pass from me ! It is her whom I loved, she for whom 1 waited in joyfiil anticipation, hoping to find the light of my youth, hoping the overlay of later evils would be sloughed away by death, hoping to find the warm, throbbing liveliness I once held. I would gladly have forgiven the pain she caused in her maturity. O what has become of the smooth flesh, the warm touch? Where is the beauty of face, the grace of form? O raise not the crocodile-skinned arms to shield the awfijl snout, the green-rimmed, red- veined eyes!

O racing heart! I hear the misformed words amidst the hiss and gurgle issuing forth from the oozing aperture. O say not that 1 was so blind, so greatly deceived, that you cared for nought but the earthly things we shared; that your affection was the false front of hypocrisy, your love a lie. Did I not always forgive? Was I not always patient? With whom did you share the terrible thoughts and desires that fashioned you thus ? Surely this caimot be the work of your own nature alone. Fickle you were and pleasure loving, selfish, cruel and deceitfiil, but all this I forgave because of the plea of my heart. Was this not enough? O where is the companion I awaited? Lost, and worse than lost.

O compassion, O mercy, come to my aid! My heart fails me, I caimot face what I thought to greet so joyously. O powers of solicitude, strengthen me. What can I do to mitigate the Law? Is there hope? Is there a way?

A whisper of comfort, O gratefully I hear it, "There is hope and there is a way, but between this self-shaped horror and the Glorious Ones there is an uncrossable chasm. In sorrow and anguish it must seek a road, it must go its own dark way as you must go yours in the light. Turn back, turn again towards the light, the compassion in your own heart does nought to bridge the gulf between, unless it strikes a responsive spark within the other heart".

"Let the memory be erased, this is not the companion of your path. The trials and sorrows borne so well, the uncomplaining unselfishness fashioned you in glory. Nor would you have reached the present degree of perfection had she not been as she was, and is now revealed to be. This fearful fate was wrought by the lost one alone, for each is the sole keeper of his spirit. Each soul is fashioned by every thought, desire and deed, every emotion that touched it during its sojourn in an earthly body".

"Each is the maker of his own fiiture, the fashioner of his own being".

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