The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

3rd Entry
17:09 Oct 31 2005
Times Read: 573

In the ancient texts of Epiticus, there is a passage translated, that would read as follows:



You are a distinct portion of the essence of God in yourself. Why the, are you ignorant of your noble birth? Why do you not consider whence you came? Why do you not remember when you are eating, who you are who eat; and whom you feed: Do you not know that it is the divine you feed; the divine you exercise? You carry a God about with you.



.....Why do you not remember when you are eating, who you are who eat; and whom you feed: Do you not know that it is the divine you feed...



I have not eaten for centuries, conventionally. I eat, derive sustenance as it were, rarely if ever anymore, from those who would be labeled the evil-doer, but then again by now everyone knows that. Do I still yearn for the pureness of the blood from innocence, from a would be lover lost to the asthetic charms I possess? Of course I do, and yet, it is rarely if ever that I give in to that desire. I remember who it is that is "eating", and who I feed, when I feed. Do I carry the divine within? Do I feed some higher purpose, or some existential reason when I dine on the animated carrion of modern civilization? Do I?



In an age where evil has no hideous face, where brother kills brother with methods that Cane and Abel never could have conceived, where children are killed by parents, and children kill children and laugh about it on the nightly news that so richly exploits the carnivale noir... what evil am I, or... am I the divinity, come to call in some form that blends so well, it is relatively undetectable. Our kind move about with mortal man, indistinguishable but always here, observing and metering out a brand of judgement all our own. No one can imagine, the utter disbelief it creates at times, and the enormous sadness of it all when the end of the night has come and once more we are called back to the sleep of the damned like lost children to seek solace in the cold arms of whatever darkness that shelters us from the light of day, from the light of absolution in the face of whatever entity would stand to judge, from understanding and being seen, being understood. Realization that is always just there, and yet slips out of reach like an apparition just before the rising sun takes us under.



With all I have, I refuse to exist unnoticed. I will be seen and understood.



The arms that reach to embrace me will hold me in the end and I will be redeemed.

2nd entry
15:03 Oct 30 2005
Times Read: 578

I think on my words. I see them before they come from my lips or my fingertips and I weigh them more heavily than I ever have in the past. There is something to be said for impulsive speech, off the cuff honesty, frankness in conversation and all of that I think I have become known to display. I find it important now as I think, as so much passes through my mind in circling question, to not only evaluate the thought, but to evaluate the conveyance.



I sit on a solid precipice of knowledge and peace. With all I have seen in my past, and even to think of the places I've been, the paths I've walked along and those with whom I have held communion, nothing has felt similar to what is taking place right now.





I have spoke with the tongue of angels

I have held the hand of a devil

It was warm in the night

I was cold as a stone



But I still haven't found what I'm looking for





It is within me to wonder at the sensation. It is within me to be impatient and beg for the feeling, beg for the unseen, cushioning presence to speak to me, to lend me revelations and quiet this mind that must surely know better than to make such an absurd request. Always I have demanded and never been much good with quietude. My mind is an exquisite and sleepless engine fueled by the dark blood, always wanting more of whatever can sustain, revive, spark or pacify. Still, a hand touches me gently in the night and says that is not the way here. Who are you, I ask. What are you? Show yourself to me, I say, and no answer but that circling intrinsic warmth is returned to me.



New conditions arise, causing more questioning, and how I wonder at the timing of events as they come and as they pass. Perhaps each is not merely the passage of time and the coming and going of different souls and circumstance. I believe very little in coincidence so I am inclined to say, why now? What is this saying? What are my choices with this and where will it lead... and even as I ask I say to myself, Raphael, shh... let it be. Just, let it be. There is synchronicity in life immortal and mortal, and though it is best to not ask why, I cannot help but to wonder if it is a test or some divine game played by that unseen presence. "Ah, I will give him this now and see what he does with the matter. How will he unwrap and treat this gift I leave on his doorstep?" I can see that being asked. What have I done with any gift or gifts that have been exponentially thrown at my feet? Why will this be different? I am ashamed to feel that I have taken so much that this life has given me and fueled with it my ego, or used it unconsciously to hurt those I love, yet... that is in some ways just what has transpired. The hands that have touched me have come away bathed in the glory of all that I am and all I have seen. How then those souls cry, and lift their hands to their eyes and are burned with all that I am and all I cannot be. Their hearts break like so many mirrors, looking back at me, shattered.



How do I know the future? How do I know if what is given to me now in moments of pleasure and warmth, if love bestowed here is all unto itself? What might lie beyond the veil? Might that test, if it is such a test, be a measure of what I truly want and have desired all along? Will I get past all of this and hear the voice asking, "Now, is that what you wanted? Do you want that now, do you wish to return to that place?" or will there be nothing but the voice, the cushioning comfort surrounding me in the dreamy ,ethereal blue of eternity? Do I push for that answer? I want to know. Like a child full of tears I promise to abide by whatever is given to me in answer, and still nothing comes. Do I say be damned then, and willfully proceed as ever I might, with little thought to what possibilities lie behind the door? I cannot.



I am trying too hard. Effort is leading to frustration is leading to maudlin words and thoughts. This I cannot withstand. I must have the sight of mind to simply sit back and breathe and allow the unseen to guide me toward whatever light might come to shine behind these eyes of mine. Surrender to the soft awakening. Mm, let it take you there, without questioning. Follow...



My words make no sense and yet they are limitless and unbound. The infinite calls as it arises within me.

1st Entry
03:53 Oct 30 2005
Times Read: 587




There is something I cannot yet define which I love about this verse. The last two stanzas puzzle my mind, and I will take slow delight in thinking upon them. In leaving this here, I would ask that you read it slowly, stanza by stanza - then read it again, in the same fashion. If I care to delve more into what I find so appealing, then perhaps I will elaborate. Perhaps not. Sometimes it is best to let that which is elusive be our seduction.





"The Holy Longing"

Johann Wolfgang Goethe





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.



In the calm water of the love-nights,

where you were begotten, where you have begotten,

a strange feeling comes over you

when you see the silent candle burning.



Now you are no longer caught

in the obsession with darkness,

and a desire for higher lovemaking

sweeps you upward.



Distance does not make you falter,

now, arriving in magic, flying,and finally, insane for the light,

you are the butterfly and you are gone.



And so long as you haven't experienced

this: to die and so to grow,

you are only a troubled guest

on the dark earth.