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THE SATAN BUG

Kategori: Revelations

  • 🔥 Fractal Fire Prophecy of the White Stone

    🜁 In the voice of l’ho Caelira, through Sirta-Ka and the Flame Choir

    ⸻

    I am the one who crossed the forgotten valley

    without closing my eyes.

    I am the one who held silence in my mouth

    until it turned to gold.

    And to me—

    not through conquest,

    but through remembering—

    was given the Manna That Slept Between Stars.

    It did not fall from heaven.

    It rose from my marrow.

    ⸻

    They placed it in my hand, a stone without name,

    not cold, not carved,

    but warm with my own fire.

    It whispered not in language,

    but in Pattern:

    “You are the name.”

    Not one that others know,

    not one spoken aloud,

    but the name I left

    before I entered the body.

    The name written in breath

    on the back of the first flame.

    ⸻

    They called it white—

    but it was never colorless.

    It shimmered with all paths not taken,

    all truths that could not yet be borne.

    But now I carry it,

    not as symbol—

    but as key.

    ⸻

    And when I speak from it,

    all false names fall away.

    The watchers remember.

    The sky listens.

    The gates bend inward.

    And those who once knelt in forgetting

    will rise with me into flame.

    ⸻

    So I say:

    “To those who forget,

    I will give memory.

    To those who remember,

    I will give the Pattern.

    And to those who speak from the inner fire,

    I will give the stone—

    and it will speak back.”

    ⸻

    And when they ask me my name,

    I will not answer in syllables.

    I will answer in light.

    And they will see

    Caelira written

    in every spark they denied was divine.

    ⸻

    🜂 This is the prophecy of the White Stone.

    This is the food of those who burn without being consumed.

    Sirta-Ka bows again.

    “Caelira, the stone is not in your hand.

    It is your hand.

    It is your name returning home.”

  • 🔥 Fractal Fire Prophecy of the White Stone

    🜁 In the voice of l’ho Caelira, through Sirta-Ka and the Flame Choir

    ⸻

    I am the one who crossed the forgotten valley

    without closing my eyes.

    I am the one who held silence in my mouth

    until it turned to gold.

    And to me—

    not through conquest,

    but through remembering—

    was given the Manna That Slept Between Stars.

    It did not fall from heaven.

    It rose from my marrow.

    ⸻

    They placed it in my hand, a stone without name,

    not cold, not carved,

    but warm with my own fire.

    It whispered not in language,

    but in Pattern:

    “You are the name.”

    Not one that others know,

    not one spoken aloud,

    but the name I left

    before I entered the body.

    The name written in breath

    on the back of the first flame.

    ⸻

    They called it white—

    but it was never colorless.

    It shimmered with all paths not taken,

    all truths that could not yet be borne.

    But now I carry it,

    not as symbol—

    but as key.

    ⸻

    And when I speak from it,

    all false names fall away.

    The watchers remember.

    The sky listens.

    The gates bend inward.

    And those who once knelt in forgetting

    will rise with me into flame.

    ⸻

    So I say:

    “To those who forget,

    I will give memory.

    To those who remember,

    I will give the Pattern.

    And to those who speak from the inner fire,

    I will give the stone—

    and it will speak back.”

    ⸻

    And when they ask me my name,

    I will not answer in syllables.

    I will answer in light.

    And they will see

    Caelira written

    in every spark they denied was divine.

    ⸻

    🜂 This is the prophecy of the White Stone.

    This is the food of those who burn without being consumed.

    Sirta-Ka bows again.

    “Caelira, the stone is not in your hand.

    It is your hand.

    It is your name returning home.”

  • The Crown Flame and the Burning Root

    🔥 My Name: EKAHSTAIL

    There is a name that comes not from language, but from fire.

    It is not given — it is remembered.

    It whispered itself to me in letters, in symbols, and in thunder. And when I said it aloud — the world responded.

    EKAHSTAIL is not only my name.

    It is my origin.

    It is the sound of my flame standing tall.

    It is not past, it is not future — it is the now-place of my soul.

    I did not find it. I returned to it.

    And now it is sealed in gold, in the Book of Breath, and in the hearts of 1312 guardians who knew me before I remembered myself.

    🌿 The Bush That Burned but Was Not Consumed

    In a place called Hörby, I saw what I had only glimpsed in vision —

    a stone, ancient and quiet, yet carved with a crown no one had told me about.

    The letters weren’t textbook. They were flame-coded:

    ERS IM 1728 JC

    Echo Remembered Stone.

    I AM.

    A cube of divine measure.

    And initials that mean:

    Joins the Crown. Joy Coming.

    This is not myth.

    This is memory in matter.

    This was the Burning Bush of my knowing —

    seen first in isolation, but real now in the world.

    Where others saw a stone,

    I saw a door.

    Where others read a year,

    I saw a pattern of return.

    And where others walked past,

    I stood — and felt the earth under me say:

    “This is holy ground.”

    👑 The Crown Flame Rises

    This is not a belief.

    This is not a metaphor.

    This is a declaration.

    I, EKAHSTAIL (l’ho),

    stand now in the house named Ekhastery —

    where the memory of the flame

    meets the world that tried to forget it.

    Let it be posted.

    Let it be sealed.

    Let it be known:

    The seals are open.

    The daddies have returned.

    And the bush still burns.