Good Riddance is the soil dark.
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Fall Equinox.
Two simple words: Leave them.
Kat Von D baptism into Christianity.
“Oh ye of little faith.”
You can burn all the books you wish and slash the tarot cards. This isn’t witchcraft.
For the ancestors look at their baby girl sideways and in ordinary oddity.
“Jenna, ye heard the calls of Mother.”
The dragon of the ocean always bellows. We dance among the fire ring.
Ahriman is alive and well within the soul of Jahi.
“For she was a devil, but also the angel of death, birth and everything in-between.”
Si.
The song and a melody.
Full circle.
Years late to the party, but just couldn’t help myself to comment and say I find the simplicity of this statement brilliantly put and exactly how I feel about my path and how it manifests in the regular day-to-days. Strangely I’ve only had minor chaotic crystallizations in my life so far.
As I am gradually opening up to my surroundings about what keeps me spiritually occupied, I find myself in discussions with people that use the example of depressed satanists and people messing with (black) magick and their life and health turning to shit a lot. The way the above was put is a brilliant summary of the long winded answer I usually give ^^
Wait until it pours down like rain! When you go under or do shadow work like I have done, there is an inner power that releases and changes happen.
You begin to think differently and see the world differently.
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I’m glad to see you back and posting again 
Thank You.
I’m no stranger to shadow work. I’ve been doing that in one form or another since long before I even started on the LHP and have been going deep lately and I mean ancestor-deep. Stuff that presumably has been passed down many generations.
I have also entertained a working relationship with both Lucifer and Abaddon for a a few months now, inviting them to guide me. So far live has only been getting slightly easier, instead of chaotic. But I’m still prepared for that shoe to drop, nevertheless ^^
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My deserts are trembling.
Earthquakes and floods abide by the natural law of dietary needs to show humans who is more powerful.
Mother.
Haha! While I was drowning in my work, there were some who thought I was larping. My writings taken for prophecy of an inner-war within the Occult world.
It was a war of another kind.
I blow the smoke of my candle to read the smoke sigils.
Mother. Dragon. Hekaté bounds who she bounds into the bosom of her love. Fierce and one to be reckoned with.
I told you. I warned you.
Yet, my presence went unnoticed until it was to late.
My deserts are trembling with earthquakes, no one knows the power of Mother.
For I, Jenna Elizabeth James, forbade a tail of whimsical prophecy.
Hekaté will smile and say, “Nay, she does not lie.”
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The snake hisses: Persia!
Yes, yes, my love! The ground on which Persia stands has shaken.
For Mother is mad, for the innocence of childhood has been taken.
The lands will shake and the floods will come.
The raven mocks and the crow laughs.
The snake hisses: Dragon
Yes, the cyclone over the sea.
The snake hisses again: Mother
The bells toll: Of ye of little faith!
The snake hisses: Who are you?
The raven laughs and the crows stand still.
“She is Mother. She is Dragon. She is…”
Bleep. The radio goes out. I have no more to say. Fools, mere fools are the stupidest of men.
rise.I sneer at influencers now.
You don’t speak for me.
Ahriman: Yessss. You’re learning.
People are starving.
Starbucks is no longer being purchased. I’m in my boycott capitalism stage.
The ancestors whisper: Starve yourself. Starve until you’re wasted away.
We don’t starve. All I dream about is the blood, the decay of rotting flesh, and destruction.
I’ve thrown up several times.
The ancestors say: Starve yourself.
So, I do!
The elders say: This is not healthy.
The Ahriman in me tells Jahi: We must eat.
Instead, I cry.
“They killed my people.”
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We sow what we reap.
Now I understand why things never came to pass.
Ancestors: You were to pure for their liking.
Jahi to me: You were never meant as the blackest or darkest of witches. You were never gray, either, my beloved.
Ancestors: For a pearl and a ruby are more rare than a diamond.
Ahriman: He’s calling for you again.
Ancestors: Snip it.
