The Portals Of Human Passion

A False Prophet may be a singular individual or a cabal as the Antichrist may be, but the true nature will likely be a belated discovery. But the goal is known, to meld worldly congregations now dispersed, into condensed more manageable super-congregations. The plan, long in execution, for the unification of the insignificant philosophical disparities of the western religions, and for the revision under the banner of a False Christ, is well under way. Even now old guard evangelicals that blazon the Antichrist, retire and attrit, and cede to the new dark messiah. Repudiate he must the doctrines of churches existent, sacrificed to the altar of newer revelation, novel doctrine to displace the centuries of true providence, of necessity distorting true meanings, remaining faithful to hidden plans. Much done to the disparagement of opposing religions, first must needs they fall into disarray, swaying the masses to legitimacy of the church triumphant. Then the systematic destruction of social orders of dependent civilizations though the military stooge. Scatter the nations and alliances opposing the Neue Ordnung, thence to corrupt and reduce to quavery the confidence of the discarnate of their kingdoms, whence forth their heads to topple. The produce of complete disorder and anarchy, civil and spiritual, should startle us not. As base kingdoms aspire not to lead followers to the truly righteous kingdoms of the Almighty beyond, can then the end purpose and aim of their earthly doctrine be found? Shall they not avail themselves of the resurrections to glory offered them, what desperate ameliorations shall then be the resort of their condition? To resolve said, first must we acknowledge who they are, and clarify our relationships. What twist of cosmic law produces such extensive and vile congregations, and what chance for success do their sinister agendas have, if any? Their identity, confront we must, that they are us, the putrid astral remains of ancestors long dead. But are we not told such sleep till a judgment day, awakened by the clarion call of Gabriel’s horn thenceforth to meet their fate? Were it but true, but here have the minions done their task to perfection, concealing by contorted doctrine the dismal hoard in plain sight, even within the presence of our own earthly bodies. Putting to service the portals of human passion as access, made they ingress to the physical to repopulate the planet with unearned presence scoped within the platform of unwitting human hosts. Multiple are the methods for entry, finding root in seven deadly sins. Little comfort found to realize we are sinners all to degree, and to this dangerous invasion none can sensibly claim immunity. Indeed, the glutton and the drunkard are the clearer example of such a body snatch, but whence the line is drawn? The overt misdoings of the besotted drunk and glut should mayhap serve as a blessed object lesson of the truth of vicarious possession by the miscreant spirit. To glut the gullet harms mostly the host, to glut on power places at peril all humankind. The bloated body of the overeater displays the symptoms more conspicuously of surrender to compulsion, and lawful abide of the Trojan, but what feature discloses the compel of power? Herein face we a more subtle and treacherous opponent, one master of the common lower passions, bypassing bodily urges, seeking instead to sate the ill and base intellect. Nevertheless, the two are twain in purpose; one aspires to rule the immediate body and to revel, the other to rule others through the body as a god in flesh, differenced only but to scale. The dark puppeteer well knows this forestalls not doom, best merely grants a last supper of sorts, a final repast enjoyed by the hopelessly condemned before dissolution. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die! Every swindle is here applied to find seat at this most ignoble banquet, a party crashed by every guest, endless in duration, expensed to the imprisoned host. By what fault of delusion has this insidiousness escaped detection, howbeit we are so deeply infested yet profound in denial of our circumstance? By what sophistry are we swayed to claim spiritual health when in fact even the most pure suffer the taint of hidden ill? What ails goes by many names, and diagnoses, some so ingenious as to border on masterpieces of dark inspirations. The end nigh we mince no words to divulge these aliased woes of the alcoholic, the morbid obese, the anorexic, the bulimic, the addict , the smoker, the drug abuser, the violent, the lazy, the liar, the angry, the prejudiced, the greedy, the wastrel, …