Aryan Faust.

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

FAUST

Scene I: Night.

(In a high-vaulted Gothic chamber, Faust, in a chair at his desk, restless.)

Ah! Now I’ve done Philosophy,

I’ve finished Law and Medicine,

And sadly even Theology:

Taken fierce pains, from end to end.

Now here I am, a fool for sure!

No wiser than I was before:

Master, Doctor’s what they call me,

And I’ve been ten years, already,

Crosswise, arching, to and fro,

Leading my students by the nose,

And see that we can know – nothing!

It almost sets my heart burning.

I’m cleverer than all these teachers,

Doctors, Masters scribes, preachers:

I’m not plagued by doubt or scruple,

Scared by neither Hell nor Devil –

Instead all Joy is snatched away,

What’s worth knowing, I can’t say,

I can’t say what I should teach

To make men better or convert each.

And then I’ve neither goods nor gold,

No worldly honor, or splendour hold:

Not even a dog would play this part!

So I’ve given myself to Magic art,

To see if, through Spirit powers and lips,

I might have all secrets at my fingertips.

And no longer, with rancid sweat, so,

Still have to speak what I cannot know:

That I may understand whatever

Binds the world’s innermost core together,

See all its workings, and its seeds,

Deal no more in words’ empty reeds.

O, may you look, full moon that shines,

On my pain for this last time:

So many midnights from my desk,

I have seen you, keeping watch:

When over my books and paper,

Saddest friend, you appear!

Ah! If on the mountain height

I might stand in your sweet light,

Float with spirits in mountain caves,

Swim the meadows in twilight’ waves,

Free from the smoke of knowledge too,

Bathe in your health-giving dew!

Alas! in this prison must I stick?

This hollow darkened hole of brick,

Where even the lovely heavenly light

Shines through stained glass, dull not bright.

Hemmed in, by heaps of books,

Piled to the highest vault, and higher,

Worm eaten, decked with dust,

Surrounded by smoke-blackened paper,

Glass vials, boxes round me, hurled,

Stuffed with Instruments thrown together,

Packed with ancestral lumber –

This is my world! And what a world!

And need you ask why my heart

Makes such tremors in my breast?

Why all my life-energies are

Choked by some unknown distress?

Smoke and mildew hem me in,

Instead of living Nature, then,

Where God once created Men,

Bones of creatures and dead limbs!

Fly! Upwards! Into Space, flung wide!

Isn’t this book, with secrets crammed,

From Nostradamus’ very hand,

Enough to be my guide?

When I know the starry road,

And Nature, you instruct me,

My soul’s power, you shall flow,

As spirits can with spirits be.

useless, this dusty pondering here

to read the sacred characters:

Soar round me, then Answer!

 

——————————————————————————————–

 

I have finished the first draft of ‘Third Reich Pilgrim’, and have started the second draft, which has included so far rewriting entire chapters. I don’t think I will finish by Christmas, it will probably take longer. I spent all this weekend writing non-stop, my eyes hurt from the glow of computer screen, but I cannot help but thinking, if I had to do this on an old type writer I would surely go mad.

“Storm, Storm, Storm

Ring the bells from tower to tower!

Ring, so that the sparks fly,

Jewry has come to take over the Reich,

Ring out the Storm, so that the world rises up,

Admidst the thunder in avenging salvation.

Woe be to the Volk that dreams today,

Germany, Awake!”   –    Dietrich Eckart

 

 

Aryan Faust

 


3 responses to “Aryan Faust.

  • Lineman

    A nice Sunday read, Thanks Kamerad.
    I see in Faust, not just the deal with devil (which seems to be what we’re supposed to take away), but the waste of random knowledge and selfish pursuit. Without duty and objective; knowledge, romance, even spiritual awakening, ultimately end with the same discomfort. But with purpose in mind and soul, distractions will have little power.
    Our world and its culture is the ultimate black dog, tempting us with circular material comfort and trivial titillation. All erudition should have purpose and direction.
    I am looking forward to your book.

    HH

  • delendaestziobot

    Thankyou Torchbearer,

    Our world is lifeless, it just waits that promethean spark, once again, again the spiritualization, re-spiritualization, something to make these dry bones live again in this kingdom of decay. Where has selfish pursuit and individualization lead us? Where? To shuffle off into death alone? That is not what greatness is made of, the Aryan Dead speak of another way.

    “The hour of decision is upon us: the choice between reality and appearence, between our German character and Jewishness, between universe and nothingness, between truth and lie, between inwardness and outwardness, between right and arbitratiness, between mind and insanity, between goodness and murder. Now, is the hour when mankind must choose.” – Dietrich Eckart

    Perhaps the most important words of the twentieth century. And the key concept is rejection of arbitration in order to choose the Right. The rejection of individual desire as the final judgement. In order to choose what is Right, and what is Right is the law given by the Aryan Dead.

    HH

  • aufihrhelden

    A reason for the cessation of Hermitage Helm Corpus until the lasers of Neuschwabenland are ready :

    Tell a wise person, or else keep silent,
    because the mass man will mock it right away.
    I praise what is truly alive,
    what longs to be burned to death.
    – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

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