Death to the World
This world is dead.
My ascension towards a better version of what my Will to Power pushes me to become, testing me against the limitations of my own physique, the fragility of my psyche and the external influences of the “Empire of Nothingness” is in every single meaningful action I make on a daily basis.
What you do says a lot more than the words coming out of your mouth.
The only way to avoid resentment and the dungeons of apathy is affirmative action, forging yourself in the fires of pain and righteous struggle and rejoicing in the challenge issued to you by having been born in an era of total degeneration and spiritual subversion. Every single hero in the Indo-European mythological tradition, from Hercules to Sigmund as well as the Christian soldier-martyrs such as Saint George the Trophy-bearer and Demetrius of Thessalonica were defined by the dragons and giants they fought.
What you oppose is what paves the road towards greatness. And truly we have been blessed to strive against the murderers of every contemporary spiritual culture.
As you march through the swamps of postmodernism like Albrecht Dürers Knight, heed that which is inside of you, what steeling your resolve against the hand pulling you into the meaninglessness and inauthentic existence in service to the Void.
Resist also the forces outside your immediate control that are trying to devour you, for defying the prescribed sacrifices and oblations of the restless herd bowing down and worshiping at the altars of the Void. Shopping malls replace temples as places of worship, sacrilege to everything once held sacred.
What if there is no way?
Then you will make one.
As the sun rises over the monolithic landscapes of steel, glass and concrete, the zombie-like masses shamble their way through the avenues and boulevards of rank debauchery and billboards rising against an aluminum colored skyline.
We have all sensed it. That moment when you know that beneath the facade of the profane dystopia of immanent decay and degeneracy that something is terribly and profoundly wrong.
The moment you step onto the subway, passively observing all the fragments of humanity around you rushing to their chains in the morning, their expressions bearing witness to the absence of any intristic value or meaning in the postmodern nothingness.
Under this lower form of existence, under all the infrastructure, checkerboard streets, organised production on a massive scale, the rule of law– which is nothing more than the rule of the mob and the mediocre– held fast to as holy writ of the false gods of democracy, equality and progress, you feel that there is something genuinely wrong with this world.
That’s because there is.
But despair is the spear of the Kali Yuga, which kills the aristocrat of the soul and the noble beast, the last obstacles of eternal darkness and despair.
Withstand it and live the way of the warrior, ride the tiger through a mythos of poetic ecstasy and self realisation until it crumbles and only then can you rip asunder its foul black heart rotting with the worms of egalitarianism, progressivism and cultural decay and let it rest upon the altar of Tradition as the supreme offering.
We, the Wardens shall prevail. If not in this century surely in another. We do not believe in the linear interpretation of history so strongly embedded in the empirical approach but follow the eternal cycle.
Just like Coriolanus, we know that there is a world elsewhere, the world we choose to create by our own will and power.
The new dawn approaches, and it belongs to us.