Where is there to begin? Here, unroll this scroll. This, where there is nothing at all, where nothing has touched the bare parchment after its preparation and adornment, this is ZAYTENERA. Zaytenera is the beginning, the White Moon, the representation of ignorance. There are no secrets here. Or so we think.
But now we move on. Here, the ink is red, paler than the Rufelza which hangs in the sky. This is VERITHURUSA, who has encountered the occult now, and bleeds heavy with the desire to share it, to spread her knowledge about, and demonstrate that there is nothing to fear in it, for she does not fear, and why should she? She is young and strong and there is nothing that will hurt her willingly.
But here we pass on, and the ink becomes blue, and it is a dark blue indeed, deep like a river. LESILLA dominates here, because we have discovered that the sharing of knowledge can bring pain. We have learned that it is not always the will which makes one bleed. Now we understand that there are secrets we must keep, and things we cannot tell, and that sometimes we must lie to protect.
Ah, there the ink was not blotted all the way first, and so ANNILLA streaks off for a moment. She holds her secrets close, and jumbles them together, weaving truth as warp and lies as weft until there is but one sheet of madness.
Here there is a thick black line, which has blocked out some section which was done improperly. GERRA. Gerra is the Black Moon. Gerra no longer cares about what is true. She hides all with her veil. Sometimes we cannot face that which is the truth, and it is Gerra who shrouds our eyes, and flays our skin, and flogs our bruises open and raw. Gerra is the shadow. Gerra fears the shadow.
A hole is here. It was burnt in the parchment by mistake, some ash fell from my spliff as I was working. But look at the patterns it burnt. I, in my carelessness, opened up the absence, the Dead Moon, RASHORANA, and the Dead Moon is the absent Moon. Rashorana is the moment of transcendent awareness, when the sacred and the profane have met at last.
Now we return at last to blue ink, this one pale and light. OROGERIA, the ULURDA, has returned to existence and matter after transcendence, and now we understand how to hold knowledge within ourselves, to let ourselves sense and feel and move with instinct and joy. The Moon of sorrowful realizations has become the Moon of joyful ecstasy.
Red and black ink intermingle here, as I filled in the prescribed sections, NATHA surely guiding my hand, I can barely recognize my own handwriting, it's so clear. This is the Red Moon of mindful revelation, the Moon which somberly unveils secrets with forethought, and it is this Moon which understands now how to proclaim the occult to the world, with misdirections of ignorance and untruths to prepare one for the full revelation, red and black together. Oh, she is terrible and lovely. When you are in my business, if you ever are, you shall understand why I never miss her rites, even if I'm bedridden for a week after.
But now we have reached the end of the scroll. There is still some blank space, and we come back to Zaytenera, who has been emptied of all her hidden knowledge and shared it with the world. But it is blank space for me to affix my sigil, and Zaytenera cannot exist for long. There is always more hidden knowledge to uncover. There. I have begun the cycle again.
Now, offer a prayer to SEDENYA, she who turns the rollers, the one who teaches the metacognition* (I know that's not a word you know, I'll have to break it down on paper) that is necessary to understand this cycle and place the faces we have learned in a context together, a simple order.
Why did I use my tax forms for this teaching? My student, when you understand this, you will have been visited by TARALTARA, and I will no longer teach you, but will instead learn at your feet. Now, count the Masks. How many were there? Whichever it was, that is the number of perfection. Meditate upon this at your leisure. And take this down to the magistracy for me, too.
*The text here consists of Pelandan glyphs that would normally be read as "(negation of)" and "bird" joined in a seal, followed by "bird" independently, followed by "Crimson Bat" (the New Pelorian neoglyph), all of it surmounted by text in standard New Pelorian which reads "the goddess's secret power", with a Cat Scratching text in the margin, clearly annotating it, which itself reads "number three of seven". In the circumstances, I have put "metacognition" as a translation based on the conventional symbolic assignments of birds in Pelorian cultural forms. -Ed.
bird = soul ?
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