Cult of Snakes

From the Snake, we begin. To the Snake, we shall return.

There is only the Snake. Within the Snake are many Snakes. One of them is you. You are the snake. You are devoured by the Snake. There is only the Snake.

On the shining scales of the Snake are weighed the pleasures and pains of the world. This weight is insignificant to the Snake.

The world is a viper nest. Within it, Snakes flourish in their eternal knotting and unknotting of orgiastic acceptance and knowing.

The Snake has no hands. The Snake has only its embrace. The Snake holds nothing. It embraces the beauty of the unfolding universe, and lets go of that which no longer serves it.

During the winters of the universe, the Snake enters brumation. It slows. It rests. It waits. Thus, so should we enter periods of rest, when the world does not grant us pleasures we should be afforded. This is not to be avoided.