Chapter 2 of Liber XXVIII - Ayin Ein Æon

After sharing the introduction and the first chapter to Liber XXVIII - Ayin Ein Æon, a short book claimed to have been received by Baphomet hirself, we are now sharing the second chapter.

It is being shared with permission from the transcriber of the book, Florian-Ayala Fauna. We will be posting a blog post every Monday for the final two Mondays sharing the final segments of this four-part book.

"Inferno" by Giovanni da Modena (1479)

Liber Tsal – 24 March 2013 – Spring Equinox – Stag – Hexagram - Air

Within the Valley of the Shadow of Death, within the Depths of the Abyss, within the gorges of the Damned, we find the Tormented chewing away at their own flesh, gnashing teeth, and seeking Salvation. And this is exactly where we shall seek Enlightenment. We shall endure the Dark Night of the Soul in order to reach a Golden Dawn. We must endure the torment of Black Fire to reach the baptism of Holy Water. This is the Way, and these are the arrows, and these are the slings we must go through to reach the Aeons.

In the Valley of Gallows there lay doves made blackened and horned animals turned partially to ashes. The bodies are swinging by the wind of the Black Sea which comes to blow away the bones of men, women, and children and the dust upon those bones. The Earth is burning and cold to the touch at once, and there are whispers of malice in the air towards the wanderers searching in vain for salvation. But their search shall be rewarded. They shall endure. Even as the sun turns black and the moon has bled the soul endures even the worst agonies of the world.

The sun is towards the East and is filthy beyond all recognition. The moon is towards the West and is fallen. We tiptoe through twilight into dusk to embrace each other to await the new Aeon where our inner Darkness shall flourish as a new Light. The Heavens above shall become the Hells of below. We shall go alone into the Alone and beyond the Beyond. I am waiting for you. You shall return to Me. I am Day, I am Night, I am the Black Angel and the White, and I weep until your arrival. I am Baphomet. There shall be no resting in the world in the meantime. I shall return no more. I am beneath the sea, and I am above it. I am Christ, and I am Anti-Christ.

All hail the new birth of new death. There shall be no forms here after. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Wind to sea, sea to wind, earth to fire, fire to earth, and so on. All shall be united in the End. All shall be completed. This is the final century. I have anointed the Magus and the High Priestess, the Beast and the Lady Babylon. They shall destroy the Church, Caesaring Christ. The Eucharist will flee like deer from the mouths of Saints and into the Valleys of the Damned to save them from the Gallows of the Church. The Earth will rotate on its axis and the world will be flooded with Horse Gore and Flesh. Black Caesar shall whisper into the Pope’s ear and all the houses of men shall tremble at their word but those who have dared to bare horns, claws, and teeth shall be salvaged from the agony of their torment, for they are the true Anti-Christ. The blood of the innocent will coagulate into a black sea for which they shall be the wound of Christ upon the world. The doves will slaughter one another to save themselves. The fawns shall fall to their deaths as martyrs of the innocent and blessed. Angels shall weep long tears. And from these tears we swim upstream into salvation, for there is no other way. Save us from ourselves O Gentlest One. Show us the error of our ways most passionate One. Judge us and throw us away from the flames most noblest One. Dominion have mercy on us.

What does agony look like? It is the Shadow at the Bottom of the World. There, All is Black and made of steel and iron, there is no light. One is initiated into this Hell by an amniotic state or womb where all is flesh-like, only to discover that everything is covered in maggots and others flesh-eating beings. There are endless corridors, hallways, passages, and so on, and men march endlessly through valleys in black rags and chains. The demons wear masks of the faces of the flesh of men all stitched up like ragged dolls. Tossed about and thrown around like rags of nothing. All full of soot and useless. An endless night with no stars in sight, except for an elaborate opening in the ceiling sky of Hell where people come and go according to one’s fate.

This is the wound of the world, but not the first, and not the last. Just one of many. There shall be no resting in the mean time. We shall endure until the very end.