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Field of the Midwinterblot

Wyrd Weaves Forever As She Will

Created on 2004-12-14 01:01:48 (#5444912), last updated 2009-11-07

863 comments received, 7,922 comments posted

Basic Info
Name:Robin Artisson
Location:East Riding, Maine, United States
Website:Stang Top Moor
Bio



FOR THOSE WHO UNDERSTAND THE MYSTERY, NO EXPLANATION IS NECESSARY

FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT, NONE IS POSSIBLE




"It is true that I am of an older fashion; much that I love has been destroyed or sent into exile."
-Samuel Johnson


"I have a vision, and I know
The heathen shall return.
They shall not come with warships,
They shall not waste with brands,
But books be all their eating,
And ink be on their hands."


-G.K. Chesterton
The Ballad of the White Horse






"...In the morning, I was alone, tired and freezing, face down in the woods, near the great mound I had first seen her standing upon. I dreamed such madness- I saw the white dogs following her, the pale people who flitted along like bats; I saw the white strands of thread that cobwebbed the entire world- I saw what others cannot see: that we are warm, pulsing mortals stuck in an eternal web of white threads of death, and the ground beneath our feet that looks so firm and solid is just a crust that covers an eternal black void, full of the regrets of the ages, and the forms of every dead thing. We are ripening, we humans, getting full and ripe, and then, we fall below, severed from the vine of life that we are all unconsciously a part of. We go to join in the feast below the rotting hill.

There is no other point to our lives but surrender to the Great Dark that awaits. There was a time when I would have been frightened by such a prospect, but not now. In that surrender, a strange wisdom arises- you find out who you are when you give up on being anything. And I am he who loves the Black-eyed beauty that rose from the mound, and who broke open the graves. I will join her at the feast below.

I saw that spectral feast, but the food was red dust. I saw dark rivers and great halls, that resonated with a timeless splendor and a great macabre sadness. I saw a great black man, black as obsidian, with great spreading horns, sitting at the head of a table, drinking from a cup of stone. I saw my love, the only love I will ever have, running through twilit fields and forests, on a great white horse that had burning eyes. Oh, my angel, my goddess, my muse, my life, my soul, my hidden bride, my everything, please, deliver me from the torment of wanting you! I choose death and dust to be with you!"


-Robin Artisson, Gwel-a-Throt

















THE TOAD BONE TREATISE
The Core Document of a Traditional Witchcraft








GO GEERT!
Strange that a Heathen should love Geert Wilders?
Unless we adopt his approach to Islam and Immigration,
You can kiss your civilized Western World goodbye.

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