Asharu Tradition

The Temple of the Lost

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Get down and sit in dust, fair maiden Babylon.

Sit dethroned on the ground, pretty Chaldea.

Nevermore shall they call you ‘the tender dainty’

Grasp the handmill, and grind meal.

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Remove your veil.

Strip off your train.

Bare your leg.

Wade through the rivers.

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Your nakedness shall be uncovered.

Your shame will be exposed.

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I will take vengeance. Let no man intercede.

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Our Redeemer —

YHWH of Legions is His Name —

is the Holy Ancient 1 of Israel.

SIT SILENT.

Retire into Darkness.

Fair Chaldea… nevermore shall they call you ‘mistress of kingdoms’.

***

I was angry with my people. I defiled My heritage.

I put them into your hands.

But you showed them no mercy.

Even upon the aged, you made your yoke exceedingly heavy.

You thought,

‘I shall always be mistress’

You did not take these things to heart.

You gave no thought to the end of it.

NOW HERE THIS, PAMPERED BRAT!

You dwell in security and think to yourself

“Ego, and there is none but me;

I shall not become a widow or know the loss of children.’

Two things will come upon you, suddenly, in a single day:

Loss of children and widowhood will BOTH hit you in full measure,

despite your many enchantments

and all your countless spells.

You were secure in your wickedness.

You thought, “No one can see me!”

But it was your skill and your science that led you astray.

You thought to yourself, “Ego, and there is none but me.”

Evil IS coming upon you;

Evil you will not know how to charm away!

Disaster is falling on you which you will not be able to appease!

Coming upon you suddenly is ruin of which you know nothing.

Stand up!

With your spells and your many enchantments on which you’ve labored since youth!

Perhaps you’ll be able to profit!

Maybe you will find strength after all!

No. You are helpless, despite all your art.

Let them stand up and help you now — those scanners of heaven, the astrologers,

who announce month by month whatever will come upon you.

See, now they are become like straw.

Fire consumes them, and they cannot save themselves from the power of Flame.

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THIS FIRE IS NO COAL TO WARM YOURSELF WITH!

THIS AIN’T NO FUCKING CAMPFIRE, BOYS AND GIRLS!

This is the great reward they’ve given you —

those traders you’ve dealt with since your youth.

Each has wandered off on his own way.

And now, there is none to save you.

— Isaiah 47

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Categories: Asharu Tradition

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