The White Hare Horseman
Humanity had finally done it, it had fallen from it's Grace, from it's Divinity, the days of Sodom and Gomorrah were irrelevant, things were far worse. The majority had lost there way and there minds, Nature was desecrated, the Machines ran Rampant, Religion had taken a Toll on the Spirit, the War Machine was prevalent, Greed, Corruption, Ignorance, and Arrogance were at an All Time High. We were at the Precipice of Inevitability, man had lost there Dignity, the soul was measured by material gain, the measure of the man was determined by the Density of the pocket, there was nothing to learn, nothing to attain, nothing to reach, it was a Steady Hypnotic Trance Like Race into the Blind Death Stone Of The Abyss. The Grand Mirage Of Time had pullen a Steel Wool Curtain over the Blind Eye, and Held Captive, Man, To it's Lesser Nature, Unable too see the Light. The Silent Genocide against Evolution was at Full Speed, Subjugation and Enslavement was as Magical as it's spell, casted over the masses in an Intricate Like Hocus Pocus Fashion. We were running down the Rabbit Hole Of Delusions, Inner Work was a thing of the past, answers were being Sought after anywhere and everywhere but from within. Our Leaders were anything but, Our Kings were Fools and Bigots, and every Guru and So Called Sage or Teacher were so far Compromised and Dissilusioned in there New Age Spiritual Techniques that they themselves had fallen victim to the Pitfalls of the Lesser Mind. Nothing ever changes, everything was the same, Decade after Decade as the withering hands of our lives were falling into the Dark Oceans Of No Return. The Legions Of Darkness were at work while the world lies asleep, awaiting there Savior. Spiritual Amnesia was a real thing and it was as Bright As The Sun, but the Truth was as clear as a Summers Day, that only from Within the Higher Nature of Man can one know God, that only from the Higher Faculties can man feel the Power of the Holy Spirit, that only through the Higher Echelons of the Spirit can man find it's place back home, where it Rightfully belongs, Within and at One with the True Reality Of The Infinite Awe. We were in a Perilous State, Hopeless, Faithless, Demoralized, Disintegrating and Degenerating in a Helpless, Pacified state, slowly burning in the Fiery Flames of Hell as we were Silently being led down to the Gates Of Hades in a Rotten Handbasket filled with Exotic Roses. To escape Reality was a Survival Tactic, Everybody wanted out, but there was Nowhere to go, and so we gave away our power not only to change our lives, but to also change the world. But, The True God, The True Creator was Wise and Patient, It was Intelligent, waiting Gracefully behind the scenes to show it's Essence at the Appointed Time and Descend Down to Redeem The Sword Of The Spirit and Raise It Upwards in Zeal with All It's Glory. It was Inevitable, through the Trickeries and Boobytraps One would Emerge Triumphant and Victorious, as the Mighty Hand Of God would Illuminate, and the Archetype would March Forth. Cosmic law would Ensue that Cosmic Balance would Tip The Scales back to Equillibrium and Harmony to Reestablish order from the Macrocosm to the Microcosm. The Wheels Of Dharma were spinning, as we were about to Spearhead an Upward Revolution to Reclaim Our Divinity and Vindicate the Grace Of Fallen Man, and The Rider On The White Horse was about to Blaze The Way. The Horse was Symbolic, the Whiteness was it's Purity, It's Inner Essence, Extracted from the Perils Of The Dark Land, it Symbolised the Triumph over matter, as the Archetype Ascended into the Heavenly Realm the Earth beneath began to Quake as it's Auric Fields Of Fire were permeating in every which way, and all that was touched, was touched. In the Far Distance, Upon this Golden Precipice the Horseman approaches the Unfathomable Palace Of Zion. In a Victorious Like Fashion, the Archetype let off a Trumpet that echoed to the Far Ethers Of The Universe, it had Found It's Light and had become ONE with it. The Sword of Virtue was Raised High, as Sun Beam Particles were Scintillating off the Golden Forged Tip of the Blade, Illuminating everything that it touched. The Shield Of Wisdom was Firm and Far - Striding were the Footsteps, Set Down like a Stamp, Seven In Total, Glistening like the Constellation of the Seven Rishis. Wielding a White Hare Mask, with Tall and Lofty Ears, Symbolising it's Aspirations to attain Exalted States Of Consciousness, The White Hare was a symbol of it's Divine Inspiration, willing to do whatever was necessary to Outflank the Decepticons of the Virtues and attain the Ranks of a Glorious Commander. With Cunningness and Might the Archetype finds the Gate Of Destiny and Marches through Valiantly in Shakespearean like fashion and emerges Unscathed Into The Valley Of The Sun, and is Knighted on it's Final Conquest, and attains The Crown Of Enlightenment.
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