The Evolution of a Slyman

The Black Son Of Scythe

Agios o Baphomet! Agios o Baphomet!

I have a bit of a confession to make. I suppose here is as good of a place as any. What I have to say here is this, I am and always have been mystically inclined; despite my lack of ignorance to the potential of peril in its line of thinking. My eyes see the world around me as one living thing. When I close them, if I didn’t know better; I swear I could hear the universe pulsing. My skin does this strange thing as I feel the airs passing between spaces, though I cannot explain it; it as if I can sense the disposition of the elements surrounding me. In the same way, I am often alerted to other presences in my general vicinity. To worsen matters, for as long as I can remember; I have always experienced a distinct sense of purpose. First when I was younger, I rationalized this as being predestined for something ‘greater’. As I grew older, my views shifted to it being more likely I held some function; that in fact, we all serve some function.

Perhaps this notion, could be something as fantastically romantic as; a charging coil in some abstract machine ruled reality. I sometimes entertain my mind with some epic saga of conquest and destiny. What becomes most interesting to me, is that my self induced delusions are never those of grandeur or glory. Nothing noble, no stride to save humanity. I think this speaks volumes, when contrasted with an understanding that; every event in my life has seemed to be pushing me in a way that, I could only be who I’ve become. Is Fate the seductress undeniable? Might it be I’ve always enjoyed the liberty of choice? Do I choose piety to the gods of probability and determination?

I can honestly say, that which has already transpired; has shaped the essence I bare to date. Defiance, transgression, honour, and aggression; are but a few of my virtues. I know the events that attributed to their dominance within me. As long as I can remember, I have looked to the splendor of flesh and bone. For all that man is, I marvel at its manifestation; man so vainly, failing miserably. No creature is born so wickedly cunning and insidious; to believe itself so above its environment, and yet cry for the carnage it leaves in its wake.

“A lion sleeps in the heart of every brave man.” – Turkish Proverb

Bravery means to dare or defy. This isn’t a passive action, this is an act of ferocity, brutality, and fearlessness. This is why our comparison is made to the lion. Lions are unforgiving and deliberate in their transgressions. Men can be much more ‘brave’ then lions. As a child I watched Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom a lot; it was beautiful to watch the lion take down its prey. Yet it held no more horror, than the autumn harvest being reaped.

Which brings me now to the reaping. Legends say there once was a Black Son who harvested an entire ‘Golden Age’ by the castration of his father. The Black Son represents an aeon so primal, fertile, and in many regards by today’s standards would be consider corrosive. For the Slyman though, it reveals itself an enlightenment of Vindex. This was the time of the first Titans, destined to be usurped and swallowed back up by the same darkness they sought to illuminate. During those days, ordinary men trembled under the unspeakable terrors that seemed to permeate all of existence, but extraordinary men reached deep into the fertile terrifying corrosion carving from it; embracing the enlightenment  of Aeonic Calling. They were the first Titans. They gave rise to gods, which in turn gave rise to more Titans that then gave rise to more gods; each marks an Aeon. Through the presence of the darkness, by drunken indulgence in the very essence of life; the Titans embraced the calling, and reaped their plunder. Essentially redefining what we are capable of as human. That is why they were Titans. That is why we ourselves must become Titans.

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