!

Kiss
Lamia
Lilith
!
Nox Noctis Est Nostri

! !
 Dedicated To
Kiss – Lamia – Lilith
George Maistrou
Of deviantArt

Poetic Comments – George Maistrou

Images & Body Text – Damiana Evohe

"""
 Portal Secundus
!"#$"%& '#(&
For i am knowledge that was grasped and
ingested, some say i fell from the tree into an
abyss, and others say that abyss is your own
subconscious where i dwell, all you have to do
is pass through the darkness and take me on
the way.

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Kiss Lamia Lilith [ George Maistrou ]

 I

Prime Considerations
This text is to be considered in the light of an extensive undertaking, twenty years
in the making, to manifest The Black Sun.

The Black Sun may be viewed as the natural consequence of the unification of
Samael and his consort Lilith.
Three cycles of magickal ritual were undertaken to facilitate this and though there
have been many down the long years who by their presence have advanced this
work my sole collaborator has been steadfast and it is to her that these words are
dedicated.

Texts exist which, in some respect catalogues the time travelled, field notes if you
wish. Foremost amongst these are –

Liber 131 & its unfolding into Solus Noir – The Book Of The Black Sun.
Blood Moon & Blood Rain.
The Songs In Solitude Cycle, specifically, The Witness.
The Selim.
The Well Of Souls.

The prime purpose of this essay is to explore Daath and its relationship with the
phenomena Ain Soph Aur. In undertaking this essay we recognize that whilst our
scholarship might be open to debate and though the erudite might find much to
critique, we state firmly at the outset that it is not our intent to flatter the intellect,
rather we challenge it as is described by our role as opposer. Further we claim no
truth, that we leave in the hands of the erudite and doubtless wise. Instead we offer
the purity of vision informed by experience, the only crucible worthy of
consideration, the rest we consider to be but the byblows of intellectual
masturbation.

"""
 II

Daath
Ode To Lost Souls
Not to you do I speak, brave of heart and firm of purpose.
Nor to you bright ones within a field of light.
Not to you who walks in purpose fulfilled.
Nor to you of vision strong, buoyed by life’s enrichment.

But to you I speak wanderer upon the shores of night.

And to you the desolate ones outside the circles of life.
Raised upon columns of molten ash.

Your journey began with a cry and ends with a scream.

Betwixt the emptiness evolved. First a doubt becomes a certainty.
Those of faith know you not. Those of vision know you not.
Those of purpose know you not. Within the citadel of life do they dwell,
basking beneath an indolent sun.

We choose as our presenting metaphor the glyph known as Otz Chiim, falsely called
The Tree Of Life. Not in the light of its accuracy but rather the poetic cast it
grants us as a description, the means by which we might convey a semblance of
meaning. Within Sephirotic existence, depending as it does from the Ain and finally
focusing itself in the false light of Tiphareth we are permitted to experience the
reflections of false existence. The light that casts shadows sufficient to maintain the
appearance of sentient forms. Herein the servants of life revel in the illusion of their
unique manifestations.

Tradition has argued that the dragon ascending the tree of life bruised its head upon
the false crown of Daath and therein the black brothers, so called, do reside.
Arguably it is the sphere, regarded as a non sephira that we aspire and as a
consequence we finally embark upon the journey from the personal to the trans
personal. Some have argued that Daath exists within the abyss itself wherein does
dwell that mighty demon Choronzon, the one we praise as destroying manifest
forms.

Rather we would perceive Daath along with its reflection, Yesod to be the only
sephira worthy of mention and exploration. All else presents itself to us as the
manifestation of controlled existence, the slave mentality upheld for millennia by the
servants of truth.
Our work undertaken draws primarily upon the sphere of Daath and whilst, in the
main, appears abstract and conceptual our experience proves to the contrary this
belief. The Black Sun and its rays we uphold to be the limitless light of the Ain Soph
Aur.

"""
III
The Ain Soph Aur
Traditionally The Limitless Light that projected the sphere of Kether, the crown,
the prime potential for manifestation within the schemata of Otz Chiim. Its
radiance blinding Samael, thereby preventing the consummation of the dark lord
with his bride, Lilith. A consummation deemed undesirable by the forces of creation
and yet a component of that very creation. Consider, if you will the war in heaven
and fall from Eden myths along with the great mythological structures of all
nations and you will recognise a repeated motif.

We posit the Ain Soph Aur as being none other than the field of light generated by
and containing the great sephira Daath. Some explanation is required at this
juncture. Light as commonly perceived gives rise through its photonic components to
a series of reflections which contain manifested forms. To use a simple neurological
model. You enter a room where a prominent smell exists and as a consequence of
familiarization after a while you no longer notice the odour. Visually if it were not
for the vibration of the rods and cones upon the surface of the cornea a similar
phenomena would occur given the visual aspect of perception. In short look at
something long enough and it to would disappear. The application of peripheral
vision to some extent proves this point for as a consequence of saturating the optical
cortex, it checks out so to speak. In short the existence of light simply reflects the
presence of phenomena which does not exist.

Black light by contrast due to its corrosive qualities, described as the venom of god
burns away the dross of perceived forms and reveals in its place that which truly
exists as phenomena as opposed to a reflected interpretation.

We propose the polarity of Daath and Yesod to be our prime consideration, denying
as is our nature the established polarity of Kether, Malkuth and their fixed focal
point of Tiphareth. What this implies we leave to the erudite to work out for
themselves. our purpose being simply to manifest the central premise of

And in those days

It was given unto the false prophets

To spread the lie, sow the seeds of doubt,

Draw aside the veil and reveal the end of days

"""
IV

Synthesis
The prime avatars erect their pylons within the emanation of Daath bathing in the
light of the Ain Soph Aur, a radiation of Black Light which as the venom of god
burns away the dross of accumulated error down the long aeons.
In undertaking this task, thus far covering two decades as time is measured within
the plane of form we began with a simple premise, human beings are incapable of
manifesting acts of magick, consumed as they be by the totality of their lives and the
singular element of self service which burns at the heart of all sentient forms. Whilst
we acknowledge that we be no different in this regard we undertook instead to
invoke and manifest an order of being capable of performing the appropriate
invokation, hence our concept of avatar. Two cycles of our work manifested the
prime avatars who in conjunction entered the Triangle Of Arte and called forth
Lilith, our holy lady. Much has been discussed and described in Liber 131 and The
Book Of The Black Sun to ratify these claims and mention here is kept to the most
basic of considerations.

Why was this work undertaken? A most important question. Our text, The Selim
speaks of our origin and again here we keep to a bear minimum in order to illustrate
our point. We conceive of a destructive gene within each and every manifestation of
sentience. A fail safe put in place to terminate what is in point of fact a flawed
creation. Death bears witness to this and though those of a spiritual inclination
posit many abstract notions considering the nature of time, space and the nature of
being we hold these concepts to be anathema.
The end of days as we perceive it calls forth agents which have been cultivated
within the gene pool of manifested forms to enact the termination of said
manifestation and whilst others might propose that our work gestates an evolving
consciousness capable of transcendence, we do not. Our nature of opposer demands
this and as the black light of our manifestation burns bright we like all are
immolated in its rays. It has been said that –

At the end of days

There shall be two Grigori upon the earth

And they shall die

Damiana Evohe

"""
Behold The New Flesh
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For i am Spirit and Dream, i pass through the 7
gates and when i reach the final one and take my
first step into your world it becomes whole, a
new flesh that is physical yet so much more.

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Kiss Lamia Lilith [ George Maistrou ]

 Songs In Solitude
Reflections In Light & Shadow

Further To The Whisperings Of Samael

Drink deep from the stream

Lest your form evaporates
Into the void from whence you came

Breathe deeply of the intoxication

That holds you bound by blood and bone

Think deeply upon the thoughts that carry you

From ecstasy to ecstasy
Through the tapestry of appearance
Pax Nobilis
A Noble Peace
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Slumbering within her grave, pale Damiana sighs. Above, the soft
pressure of leafmould, like a blanket, wraps itself around her in
tenderness, a tenderness she had not known in life. Beyond that a
gentle warmth sometimes makes itself known to her diminishing
senses. How long she had lain here none could tell, for in truth none
knew of her presence, alone within this shallow grave. How had she
lived, how had her life come to end and how, within this earthy tomb
could she yet continue to be?

How could she still be here and not as the prophecy had foretold,
released into freedom and the golden valleys beyond to join her Lord
and Lover. Only in these rare moments of awareness did she wonder,
for mostly she knew only the dark, the sweet embrace of oblivion.
This she would have, and yet something called to her, called to her in
fine sibilant whispers, seductive, enticing and beguiling.

In life she had been fine and noble of form, in stature tall, lithe, the
body of a dancer, fine of feature, cheek bones a razors edge, nose
aquiline above which a pair of almond eyes, stained violet at their heart, shone like
bright suns. Crowned by a mane of ink black hair, dark as the night sky itself, hung
in swathes across her shoulders and shrouded the nape of her neck, cascading, like a
waterfall over breasts of milky opalescence crowned by aureoles of crushed peaches.
Travelling downwards across muscle firm yet yielding to that secret place nestled
between thighs of softness, covered in a fine down of gossamer strands of silk. Legs,
long, tapering to an ankle of fine bone and sinew. Feet slim yet strong. Many had
sought her through her short life, for her beauty, for her mystery, each of them now
lay dreaming within her womb. Yes, she had shared her delights, only briefly and
harvested the fruits of love, memories which now haunted her into the long night,
unrelenting. And then death, one velvet dark night had seduced her into his mystery,
had come for her whispering gentle endearments into her ever open ears, had lain
with her, entered her and claimed her as his, for was she not beauty indeed?

And yet, she was still sentient, not a fleeting spirit adrift upon the night air, not a
disembodied soul seeking solace amongst loved ones. Was this her reward, her
penance? Had she not served her mistress well, offering blood and semen as votive
offerings within the services performed in her name? Had she not offered herself, her
flesh, the means of manifestation, where passion is the prayer and lust the means of
Invokation? The dark shore of night whereupon, we embark upon a journey from
mystery into greater mystery, our blood knowingness our only guide, steers us
through dark atavisms and pre-human byways of being, where bestial tongues utter
inchoate sounds unto the firmament that hears them not. Hecate’s dark realm,
awash with soft murmurings yielding to screams and the torment of tortured souls.
She stands triumphant upon the bones of her worshippers, for torment is her service,
where pain is but the echo of her yearning, where birth and destruction are the ebb
and flow of her breath, fetid with the whisperings of dark mystery. Had she not been
promised entry into the realm of the true gods, those who exist outside the night of
time?

A whisper from the dark lord Lucifer, brooding within his citadel of memory, casting
dreams like sprinkled stardust into the void. Dark lord of Repose. The Redeemer.
The Opposer. It was for this one that she had served her dark mistress these cold,
long aeons.

The circumstances surrounding her death are a mystery to her as is her present
condition. Of time she knows not, of reason also, little is known, only the ever
dimming memories that surface to torment her within her citadel of isolation. And
yet occasionally she feels, rather than hears a distant, plaintive song, a calling back
to flesh and life upon the surface of the shimmering star. And how does she spend her
moments of lucid waking? Remembering sweet pleasures, ones which elevated her,
made her complete within her service to her dark mistress.

!!!
 ##
!"' .&"'+
And how had that service begun? Alone upon a wind swept beach, hair
tossed by the raging tempest, the tang of salt upon tongue, stinging her
eyes. Skin, open to the elements through folds and pleats within her
dress and cloak, bruised by the contact of cutting wind and occasional
grains of sand, too light to retain their tenuous grip upon the surface of
the beach. Walking, musing upon trifles, what was and what would be.
Then turning, noticing for the first time the moon, blood red, ravaged
by clouds the color of bruised flesh, waxing, not yet full. A sound, at
first shrill then becoming deeper, insistent as it invades her attention.
From what source, and to what purpose?

Pausing to discover its point of origin, a shadow within shadows, the

entrance to a cave and at its entrance a dull pulsating light, honeyed
amber in color, reaches out and invades her senses, captivating,
entrancing. Stepping forward, one faltering step then another and
finally stretching into a run, a sense of slow motion envelops her as she
moves forwards, yet moves not, a wrenching sensation in the pit of her
stomach, a snap of some internal unknown and movement is granted
and with lightning speed she arrives at the cave entrance. Waiting, waiting for
what? She knows not.

Then the sensation of tiny fingers, touching, caressing, fingers of ice calling forth
her heat and moisture as slowly she is lifted from the sand and begins to spin upon
the breeze, now master of her movements. Ice enters her, touching first the surface
of her skin, then penetrating inwards and meeting her fire, melts into languid and
liquid delight, she glows, sweats and gentle moans rise from her throat as one by one
her clothes are teased from her, opening her to the elements and the penetration of
the night. Fingers slide across back, belly and breast, down thigh and leg leaving her
naked, exposed within the embrace of fire and ice. She touches sand, its grains
abrading soft skin, feels its coolness, its support. The sound diminishes and in its
place, shadows arise, dimly seen, keenly felt and in the silence the tempest ceases
and stillness soothes her ravaged senses. Advancing upon her, the shadows, at first
fragmentary, coalesce into an aethyreal form of opalescent beauty, hues, pastel in
shade undulate across and through surfaces creating a shifting plane of perspectives,
“speak not” says a voice of liquid amber, “take delight and pleasure in the flesh.”
Advances closer crooning a lullaby, distant memories arise, childhood, summer, a
forest glade, lying at ease in the embrace of nature. Fingers touch, breath like the
gentlest of breezes touches, flushing of skin, hearts blood coursing through sinew
and skin causing breath to increase, as one by one each part is touched, hair stroked,
teased outwards into a veil, a nimbus of dark light illuminating contours and
features, eyes opened to the glories of the dark by a breath that touches lightly and
then is gone. Lips brushed, the taste of almonds and orange blossom, causing the lips
to part the tongue to move outward, to touch, contact lips, now gone. Breasts
aflame as liquidness touches their surface, nipples harden, pulse, stretching towards
this source of pleasure. Belly opens, like the womb of time itself, opens and releases
moisture, demanding. Fingers touch, explore soft contours, like the petals of a rose,
one by one unfolding, opening to the sensation of penetration, releasing moisture, as
thighs gently bruised by a lovers kiss, back arches, stretches, the abandon of
passion sweet.

Adrift upon the tide of passions velvet embrace she soars into unknown realms,
realms of pure sensation, each breath etches a lambent flame upon her flesh, forming
an alphabet, whose consonants and vowels are the sweet sensations of fulfillment,
an orgasmic being, where only the essential, the pleasure of the moment unfolds
itself to her saturated senses. Finally pausing, spent, she alights upon a barren
plane and in the near distance a mountain range, a castle, brooding, casting its
shadow across the terrain, staining the landscape, as if some hideous night born
horror dwelt within. Rising, compelled to move towards this monstrosity. Surveying
her surroundings, the barrenness reluctantly gives way to fetid swamp, her feet now
awash, slime arising from the depths, ankle deep in the mire she makes her way
tortuously through the rank undergrowth, the stench released by her footfalls
releasing into the air the odor of decay and stagnancy, night creatures make
themselves known to her sharpening senses. The slither of serpents rising along the
sinews of her legs, wrap themselves around her as if they would hide her nakedness,
searching, probing, exploring her contours. She advances amidst the chorus of
nights purple legion.

Swamp gives way to rock and the sharpened fragments of stone now underfoot,
causing her to wince, briars in profusion, unyielding meet tender flesh, barbs that
enter and tear at her skin, forming fine rivulets of blood travelling along the length
of arms and legs, stinging as the night breeze opens her to further sensation. She
gasps, her breath coming in halted gulps. Onwards and now upwards she treads, a
barely discernible path, flanked by stunted trees and twisted shrubs releasing their
perfumes upon the night air, finally gives way to a courtyard, an expanse of broken
flagstones, limned with lichen and moss, glowing as with the presence of
praeternatural light, weeds appearing in crevices formed by the passage of time.
Steps rising and finally a doorway of marble embossed with plaques of metal,
strange signs and images, some of nature, some of strange worlds, all carrying a
sense of menace. The way is barred to her. Sentinels guard the portal, bestial forms,
part human, part beast, raised upon pinions of furred talon, giving way to the torso
of humanities perfection, ripe, full breasts and the softness of curves she recognizes
well, crowned by a visage of bestial perfection, fangs bared as if awaiting their
quarry, who even now passes between them.

A voice, hushed whispers, issues from she knows not where, “what seekest thou,
fair creature, the delights of our castle, or perhaps the presence of she who dwells
within?” In answer she claims her innocence of any intent, and as a simple traveler
has stumbled upon this place, this castle. “Enter and know that shadows and
despair await thee”. No way back, she advances to see the door dissolve before her
eyes and now she is within a chamber, vaulted, supported upon pillars rising
upwards into unfathomable heights, carpets scattered upon bare stone, alcoves
containing statuary and images from the past of cultures divers, some human, many
not. Recesses containing divans of velvet flanked by candles whose guttering flames
cast an amber light upon the chamber. Pausing she takes her rest in order to better
survey the immediate surroundings. Along one wall a hearth, the mantle of which is
supported by angelic forms, wrapped in their pinions and gazing upwards
beatifically. Within the hearth the roaring of flames fed by logs the size of small
trees. She rises and advances to this place in search of warmth.

Whispered endearments meet her ears as finally she arrives and is greeted by a being
who steps out of the shadows, ink black his skin, red his eyes, of form slender and
sinuous, graceful, crowned by a skullcap of filigreed metal. Magnificent in his
nakedness he holds within his hands a bowl of beaten brass figured in an unknown
cipher. “Drink, fair one, for it will prepare the way.” Reaching out she receives the
bowl, raises it to her lips and drinks deeply of its contents, again the taste of
almonds and orange blossom assails her senses and carries with it a sense of well
being and rapture. Emptying the contents, swooning, she falls upon a surface of
furs and rich velvets and dreams.

!!!
 ###
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Awakes to the sound of plainsong interwoven with the susurration of
flowing water and the call of night birds. Beneath her back cold stone,
she is stretched, arched across a boulder, hands and feet bound by
silken cords. Above her, smiling, she stands, awaiting the return to
consciousness of her ward. “Fear not the bindings, for I must open
your body, your flesh”, comes a whispered voice, caressing her senses
with its wine rich depths. “Long have I awaited you and now the
time of waiting is past, be at ease, rest, be attentive for I have a
story to tell. Like you I to, was once mortal, shared in the pleasures
of the flesh, yet I knew the worm awaited me, the unrelenting
passage of time would bring me into its chthonic realm, this I denied
with every fibre of my being, sought long for the means of release
from this curse, having searched high and low within the confused
ramblings of my kind, the promise of celestial paradise, the entrance
to hallowed halls of learning and becoming. I finally realized that
this served to distract, assuage the inevitable which I too would come
to despite my time honored and cherished illusions. Yes I learned of
the sweetness that sours in the light of times passing. I knew pain,
hurt as any of my kind would, for as a woman I carry the joys of the world within
my womb and also its sin. In time I came to know the purity of despair and came to
savor the austerity of its bitter sweet taste. I found pleasure a paltry affair, visited
infrequently by moments, mere moments of anaesthetic release. No more would this
be so, I withdrew and so doing ceased to be as I was, and now, would never be again.
For I abandoned my kind and their ways.

And in the desert of despair left this world, leaving only a shadow self to continue
the pretence. That shadow continued, retreated further then it too dissolved and
joined me and became she who now stands before you. From the pit of suffering and
remorse I arose triumphant and made my pact with the lord of this world, the ever
present one, thinly guised as pleasure, as pain and the means of release from both.
He took me into himself and shared his glory, his secrets, his yearnings, until I
finally joined him and knew rapture pure, undefiled by thought and speech, the
chatterings of primates scurrying from darkness to darkness complete. Long aeons
have I dwelt within my fortress of night, taking my pleasure amongst the legions of
the half lives. Distilling from their pleasure and their pain the vital nectar that
sustains my form, form which exists within the dark cave of each of their hearts,
their lives. They see only my horror and not the beauty of austerity that shines
within my heart, the pulse of life that bruises my eyes, eyes that know their hearts
and minds. Only suffering they know, for they have not plumbed the depths of
despair and its kindred, my offspring. And now I would claim thee as mine fairest
Damiana for I know your heart, your mind and now I would know your flesh.”

So saying she advances and in the silence of her passage Damiana again tastes
almond and orange blossom upon her lips as a gentle breeze resolving itself into flesh
touches her lips with a stroke so fine and rich. She answers the call and opens her
heart to the embrace, an embrace which ignites her flesh once again into rapture, as
tiny tongues of flame reach out and touch her. Breast to breast, lips to lips they
meld and become one, exploring textures and shapes, tastes and odors of
intoxication, lines of fire limning their every angle and contour. Caught upon a wine
dark sea travelling from rapture to rapture. Gently she rises wiping the sweat from
her brow, from her lips and breasts and looks upon Damiana. “Would you join me
fair one and know my Art, my Knowledge?” In silence Damiana answers an assent.
“I must open your flesh, let it blossom, strip the kernel that yet binds you and
release you into the exaltation of the new flesh.” Advancing she utters a brief
plaintive call whereupon she is transformed into the guise of the sentinel
encountered in the outer hall, in shadows he advances, black within a deeper black,
his eyes glowing in the darkness now all but complete and from the air he plucks a
crystal which sparkles within its own light. With this he touches her forehead and
she sleeps and dreams of caresses, of kisses, of passion ignited by the touching of
flesh to flesh and as passion unfolds itself within the passing of their breath, one to
the other he opens her fleshy veil and extracts her essence, bone, blood, organ and
muscle does he excise, making of it a mannequin which dances in rapture. And of her
essence he shapes a new form and inscribes upon its contours the ciphers of desire,
sigils of power, of protection and eternity. Lambent light courses through this new
form, sigils form and reform, dancing eternity’s dance of splendor and becoming. The
sigils coalesce, writhe and finally meet at a central axis point between her breasts,
then dissolve into the new tissue and flesh.

Damiana awakes from her dream to whispered words, caught upon the breeze, “in
time you will know my name, for that is secret and undivided, for now go forth and
take thy will and pleasure amongst the legions of the living.” And in this way did
Damiana meet her mistress and true to her did service through the flesh, opening
herself to each and every delight, celebrating the new flesh. And then she met with
death one ink black night and now waits for the call that will release her from her
leafy grave that she might know glory and the promise of eternity in the arms of her
dark lord. He who awaits her arrival on the other side of the veil called appearance.
 Go in peace and rest
within the embrace of shadows tender arms

Damiana Evohe
Mater Lilitu
D&$8%+ Lilitu
Come in shadow of night, come to the
river where the water ripples, look deep
into shimmers and swirls and soon you
shall see my dark face, the face of Mater
Lilitu behold and praise.

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Kiss Lamia Lilith [ George Maistrou ]

 Na’amah
Golden thread around heart entwined
Visage of palest gold bleached by blood
Darkest barb venom sweet
Vision of light shadowed by blood moon
Step by step the pageant unfolds
Embrace melt into rapture
Dissolve into bliss denied

Pale golden one a kiss upon thy brow

A caress upon breast of softest silk
Entwine limbs slick with sweat
Heat dissolves flesh
Breath dissolves thought
Passion dissolves the heart
Union dissolves life
Blood flows from wounds deep as time
Semen rises caught in a cup of softest velvet between golden thighs
Breath quickens and dissolves in rapture sweet
Breath stills in the velvet shroud of darkest midnight
Cascading thought tumbles into oblivion, servant of time
Na’amah golden one mistress of time servant of none

Shapes born of desire replace the tapestry of life

Life bows to death her master
Through silven forests does she dance beneath pale Hecate
Loose thy arrows desolate one pierce flesh spent in passion
Golden nectar flows through limbs broken
Darkest venom courses through veins burned upon thy pyre
One kiss granted benediction
One kiss denied eternal longing

Reflection dark shadows arise, a mist of amber stained blood red

Lightning burns eyes long weary
Thunder subdues heart quenched in fire
Gaze deep into the mirror of thy mind
Draw deeply from the well of thy heart
Broken vessel leaking blood into sand unheeding
Once a garden pure where innocence was born
Leaf and stem embraced in love
Once an earth mother to her children
Cradled in loving arms
Once starlight dissolved the vacuum of space
A thousand angels voices arched in ecstasy
Once life pierced the veil of time
The tapestry woven thread by thread

Across the mountains of the moon did we walk my love and i

Taking our rest within the vale of Aphrodite
Into the boundary lands did we step
Upon a plain of golden sand the bones of all who went before
Beneath our sun we walk ebon rays shining forth
Dissolving all that has been and will be
Creation unmade upon the plain of truth unfolding

Namrael fairest maiden

Samael desolate one
Hand in hand each step a drop of blood released upon the aethyrs
And in the last of days
Two grigori walk upon the earth
And they shall die

Yglas Na’amah Yglas Isheth Yglas Ygrat

Yglas Lilitu Ben Grigori
Evohe Evohe Evohe
Ast Innui Khephri Vos
Ahdi Ypres Grigori
Selim Ast Nobilis
Khephren Ma Un Nefer Ast
Portus Lucis Noir
Ave
Damiana Evohe

"""
 The Night Watch
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With the coming of the night, come see
the wonders, the stars that shine, the
holy moons phases, come see the
guardians of night, if you know the
mysteries of night, they will welcome
you to the fold of shadows.

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Kiss Lamia Lilith [ George Maistrou ]

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The Hill Of Flint

Damiana Evohe
Vesica
Ordo Templi Solus Noir

!
Once upon a hill of flint beneath an ocean of stars I called unto
thee. Vision burned within eyes, pale mirrors of thy glory and in
the velvet silence of midnight an answer came. Now like one
turned to ash beneath thy gaze I wander upon the shores of night.
Shadows attend me, their whispers seductive yet bereft of life as
they turn upon the wheel of thy becoming. Errant shades caught
within a web of whispers. Burn their presence from my sight and
grant the benediction which is thine alone to grant. Make of my
body a sigil, celebrating thy presence and within thy embrace
might I reside until time itself tumbles into memory, dull mirror
of thy glory.
Once within a lake of fire I called unto thee and as my form
evaporated into thy breath did I rise purified, made whole in thy
sight and yet a shadow cast upon memories dull mirror. Flesh
melted into a pool of amniotic mist. Blood boiled and became as
liquid gold. Bone dissolved by thy acid touch and as thy kiss
parted lips parched did I ascend on thy breath. In that crucible
was I formed and upon midnights eternal shore was I cast. Sent
forth amongst the legions of the damned. Anathema to all I
beheld. Witness and scribe cast thy spells upon the aethyrs. May
thy body be thy pen, thy blood the very ink of inscription and
upon the papyrus of life inscribe the axiomata of bliss.
Once beneath the ocean I called unto thee, reached out a hand
and felt thine in mine, only to slip away. Was it but a moment
ago that flesh met flesh and melded into a single heart?
Through eyes yet dim did I behold thee? With ears confounded
by deceit did I yet comprehend thee and upon my lips did I not
taste of the nectar that drips, honeyed, from the petals of thy
rose? Life steps briefly behind the veil of eternity, takes a bow
and collapses into singularity. Waves resolve themselves into
ripples and as the reflection settles a new form arises, takes a
stumbling step and the pageant unfolds.
Once upon a summers breeze I called unto thee. Wings
unfurled did I descend into thy embrace, felt thy heartbeat
upon my breast and released an anguished sigh. Mistress of
my soul I serve as a reflection of thy presence within the vale
of tears. Thy whispered word a thunderous command. Thy
desire a template of mine acts and thy form the vessel in which
I travel across the aethyrs celebrating thy song of rapture.
The breeze rises to a scream and upon its echo do I now
continue my quest beneath a field of golden stars, each bears
witness to thy presence and in the sanctuary of their hearts is
thy judgement reflected upon the mirror of their minds.
The four regents converged and therein I called unto thee, a
whisper traveling down the corridors of time, an echo bears
witness to longing. Solve Et Coagula. The axiomata burn the
aethyrs and mist rises, caught in lungs and sent forth as
Invokation. Khephren Ma Un Nefer Ast. The Archons and
Vesicas gather, summoned from slumbers deep and rise upon
pinions of starlight and between the vast reaches of space the
stars whisper to each other. Bear witness o child of ages and
rejoice, return to thy dreams cloaked in a mantle of deepest
midnight and walk invisible amongst the shades that attend thee.
Sic Transit Gloria Rosa Mundi. Make of my body a temple unto
thy service. Make of my blood a river that flows, constant to thy
commands. Make of my tears an ocean of prayer. Make of my
breath incantations of desire and of my heart make a cauldron
wherein the regents are conjoined in eternal rapture. Distil the
prima mater and of this condense but a single drop and offer this
upon the altar as a benediction and votive offering unto thy name,
Babalon the fair, maiden and whore garbed in silk and gold, drunk
upon the blood of saints and astride the beast of thy dominion.
Ave Lilith. Ave Isheth. Ave Ygrat. Ave Na’amah. Ave.
Twin pylons upon a desert plain of calcified bone. Twin beacons
upon the shores of night. Twin souls conjoined in rapture,
embraced by our holy lady. The rays of an ebon sun bathes them
in lustral light and venom pours forth upon the heads of all.
Archon and Vesica, avatars of the end of days. Seek them not in
exotic climes or within the chambers of thine heart for they walk
invisible amongst thee. Purified by Ignis. Consecrated by Aqua.
Cast upon Aethyr and manifest in Terra. Solus Noir and Lammae
Rouge. Samael and Lilith. Archon and Vesica of Ordo Templi
Solus Noir. The flesh redeemed and made whole.
 And In Those Days
It Was Given Unto The False Prophets
To Spread The Lie
Sow The Seed Of Doubt
Draw Aside The Veil And Reveal
The End Of Days
History written in your stars, unheeded. Your acts before your
eyes, unheeded. You dwell within a garden, unheeded. Raised to
beauty and splendour, unheeded. Blessed by innocence, unheeded.
Granted dominion & responsibility, unheeded. Freewill and choice,
your conceit. Power in your world, hubris and lies. Shackled in
prisons of your own creation when freedom and mystery surround
you. Beauty in the wing of a butterfly, majesty in the gait of the
panther, innocence in the eyes of a child. And yet … … … ?
Justice do we serve and our sister blesses us in her travails
eternal. Look into the mirror of your form, cast aside the veil of
ignorance and know these as the end of days.
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Damiana Evohe
 Elysian Fields
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When your time has finished, and thou
are buried or burned and are laid to rest
within Demeter's earth, Demeter will
come and guide you to the entrance of the
cave with the torch of phosphorus and
there she will pass it to her daughter
Persephone. She will continue the
journey until she reaches the darker
alcoves of the cave, there she shall
encounter the Great Titaness Hekate.
Persephone will pass the torch to Hekate
and the Tri-morphy will finish the
journey in which you will find your
happiest rest. She the great key holder
will take your hand and take you the
great glowing gate. There she will take
the silver key and unlock the gate, and
allow you to enter the Elysian Fields.

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Kiss Lamia Lilith [ George Maistrou ]

Damiana Evohe
Nemesispublications@googlemail.com