The Path Before Me – By Arm Of Thor (Kamerad Curt)
They had started the morphine earlier that day. The fentanyl patches no longer worked as a shield for the pain. Staring in disbelief at my father’s sunken face in his hospital bed, withering away, bright blue eyes bulging, fat and flesh sunken to a horrific degree. The aggressive cancer obliterating the pain defenses of the heavy opiates…No defense against the pain…the impending. This fake earth we live on is being sucked dry by the forces that care not for nature or men. This second earth will be dead soon like the moon. Lunar = Death. Evil only cares about enriching Itself and using slaves of Atlantis to their end before moving on. This is accomplished by imposing frameworks for living that defy what is natural, i.e. Capitalism, Democracy and Usury. My father, who passed about a month ago, is symbolic of this world we live in. He was yet another mindless ziobot fumbling through life, but not ever knowing his purpose – he was just another cog in a massive wheel – within the the machinations of The Iron Age. Earth, this wheel, always turning clockwise, away from Nostalgia, further and further into the Age of Iron, destruction through explosion. He passed away not knowing the Truth. The worst death.
The first dream I had was at the broken antenna that is Externsteine, but on the back-side of the holy rock formation. As I looked up at Him in the rocks, where he hung for nine days without even mead to quench His thirst, to rediscover the meaning of the Runes for us. I heard a slight wind at my back, a rustling of the beautifully coloured German Fall leaves. I turned around and saw Him there, looking at me intently. After a moment, I asked Him, “Can I call you Father?” He answered, “Yes, but you do not know why yet.” “When will I know?” “Continue to follow The Path I laid out for you.” He replied. His words were of finality, as though He was certain I would continue to walk the Path of the Pilgrim. I looked back up at the rocks. As I did the air around me was like a vacuum…soundless…completely quiet. Then the very slightest Orphic music mingled with the leaves quietly stirring. I looked back again, but He was gone.
But He is not gone…He had never left me, I was simply not listening to Him. I was too busy doing drugs and whoring and lying, too busy to listen to the ancient wisdom of the blood within. That initial dream was all just my imagination…right? Wrong. Dead wrong. I now always listen to my Blood…within which carries the Nostalgia for what once was…perfection…The Golden Age…Thule Hyperborea. That is where my Father Wotan resides, waiting for the Sons of Wotan/Odin to gather and complete The Final Battalion to wreak unimaginable vengeance upon the Evil that is the Demiurge.
“Loyalty is my Honor”