The Golden Star


The Domains of Night

“No,” he replied, “there is a prophecy which tells of the coming of the glorified spiritual Christos, who will deliver suffering mankind, or Chrestos. Only after He, who is called Sosiosh, or Kalki Avatâra appears, will the dark sides—the reverse of their natures—of Brahmâ, Ahura Mazda, Zeus, Jehovah, and all their kindred vanish and disappear in thin air. All those Gods of the Hindu, the Zoroastrian, the Greco-Olympian, or the Israelite—cruel, tribal, jealous—will be no more, but melt away like the empty phantoms they are; once born in the mind of the zealot, the fanatic, the dreamer, taking form and overshadowing human ideals, instead of bringing the Light which will call home the wanderer on the ocean of illusion within a thousandfold illusion, which mortals call life—or death. Only then will all these dreams fade away into the limbo of things better forgotten.

“Then the egotism of the revengeful God ‘I AM’ will be no more, and the higher realization of the one-ness of the children of the God of Light will be the heritage of all. The Jewish teachings of the Old Testament—which surely is the basis of all the fiendish persecution mankind has suffered from for the last few thousands of years—will be replaced by the Super Gospel of Light and Love; and every dark and evil passion will be subdued.”

So saying, the Messenger went forward, and Ma-u and Ma-uti followed him further into the dark domains.

Their way lay across a narrow path, just visible in the starlight, for there was no moon; and this path was like a razor-back in the Alps, astride a deep abyss. Beside the path the winds roared, howling with menace. To left and right reared mighty mountains, lifting up their giant masses to the black sky, which was bedecked with fiery gems. Restless shadows flitted here and there, more guessed at than beholden, and Ma-u and Ma-uti drew up a little closer to that white-clad figure, that fearlessly strode on.

“What are those shadows, dear Messenger?” asked Ma-uti.

“They are the Sons of the Lords of the Black Countenance, the gigantic Magicians of Ruta and Daitya, whose evil practices destroyed Atlantis, as surely they will destroy the present Race of Man, unless he turns to the Light. They dwell in cunningly devised subterranean caves, in twisting passages that lead to the nether worlds, where all the Lords of Darkness gather and bide their time. Deep in the murky depths they wait, shadows in the shadows, fearsome, deadly, merciless. Skilful are they in the ancient Mysteries, divining their time for spinning their webs and weaving their snares in which to trap the unwary; preparing for the great catastrophe which, they hope, will end the Light for ever, so that ignorance and barbarism will prevail again. There they hide, until in the far distant future—the Krita Age as it is called by the Sages, in contradistinction to the present Kali Age—the ‘Everlasting King’ appears with his inspired teachers, who will awaken the minds of the peoples until they become pellucid as crystal. And already the heavens are full of signs and omens, and the dark ones gnash their teeth in rage, but impotent to prevent. Until that time, even the highest Angel will soil his immaculate wings when once he touches this dense and soiled atmosphere of darkling earth. Yet, darkness serves a holy purpose, as it was taught in all the ancient cosmogonies, and in Egypt it was said that Darkness was the principle of all things, and that Light comes from Darkness. Job said that Behemoth, the principle of Darkness, is the chief of the ways of God. Out of deep Darkness, or Chaos, with which the face of the earth was covered, came forth the creatures God created, when the Lord of the Sun sent forth his holy streams of Light and Life. This has happened many times when one of Brahmâ’s Nights turned into Day. The Chhâyâs also perish and appear later on once more as Dhyânîs, who always remain, to watch and guide Man.”

“How can we know them, Messenger?” asked Ma-u.

“Not by mortal sight, my son, but by the streams of Holy Light sent forth by them, enlightening the mind within with Wisdom; that which men call exaltation, genius, inspiration from on high.”

Advancing further into the dreaded regions, flagitious, foul, they beheld monstrous shapes a-crawl the cavernous deeps, or chained to mighty rocks.

“Here are the shadows of the Giant Races that once abode upon the earth, stupendous beginnings out of Chaos; earth-bound prodigies, vast and vile they linger on, until the final Age of Earth shall bring them, too, Salvation—if so they will.

“There are also those creatures here who were made by the iniquitous sorcerers of Atlantis, from which the origin of the Prince of Tyrus can be traced.”

“Is this the place then where Satan holds his Court?” asked Ma-u.

“No,” said Neteru-Hem, “Satan is only a name; it is the name of Jehovah turned upside down. He is not a black God, but a negation of the White Deity. As God is the Light, so Satan is Darkness, and this Darkness is necessary for mortals, to set off the Light, or else to them the pure Light of the Sun would be invisible and incomprehensible.”

Onwards went the Messenger with his two companions, and ever more increased the darkness, until it became visible and half showed and veiled the darker shades that flitted everywhere as on the silent wings of sable Gods, in rayless majesty, of Night’s abode. A heavy, leaden movement became perceptible, as if ponderous tentacula stretched from unseen, hidden spiders; hairy, moribund with greed. A darkness pressing on the eyelids and searing in the brain with heavy throbs of sullen, persistent hammer-beats. All the candles of God’s illumination dead, and the daggers of death, whose sudden visitation awes the stricken soul, a-point and ready to destroy. The sluggard shades of sleep, whose vapours rise and bind the lids with melancholy languor striking apathy, adrift like surging mists within the gloom.

No mystic Avalon is this, where Arthur’s Soul was wafted by the maidens, when slain he was by Mordred, to rest in everlasting bliss. No gleam of light, no ray of hope, but endless grim despair, that chokes the pulsing throat with bitterness.

“Is not this darkness dreadful,” sighed Ma-uti.

“Yes, my child,” replied Neteru-Hem, “and yet, it is but the shadow of the Divine Light. The Spirits that dwell here and whom you both sense so unpleasantly, are but the Astral Shells of men, who themselves have determined their present condition. Some are incredibly old, and if you could see their shapes as once they were when in the flesh you would be truly terrified. They are the shades of the unknown Races who dwelt on earth many millions of years ago. Some are of the Chhâyâs, or Shadows, others of the subsequent races such as the Androgynous, or third race, or of the fourth, symbolized by the Lion, and the fifth, or Aryan.”

“Are these shades then entirely forsaken by God?” asked Ma-u.

“Nay, my son,” was the reply, “remember that one of our wise men, named Pascal, once said that God is a circle, the centre of which is everywhere and the circumference nowhere. But that was ancient Wisdom, and God was also called the Cosmic Circle by wiser men of long ago, to whom both the terms God and Circle had the same meaning. The Nights and Days, or cycles of rest and activity, were also known as the Eternal Perpetual Motion, the Ever-Becoming, as well as the Ever-Present and Ever-Existing:—making Absolute Unity in its perpetual and never-ceasing evolution, circling back in incessant progress into its original status.”