How else can the panic be allowed to escape, percolate out of the bloodstream, through the liver, permeate the lining of the stomach, and heave up through the escophagus and finally exit with the expulsion of hot air across the vocal chords into an inarticulate scream, evaporating into the air with the moisture contained in the breath of the living into the wholeness of the apeiron, along with the gradually dissisipating waves of sound, to airy thinness beat, until a flapping butterfly wing can, with one flap, tear the last sign and icon of ineffable thought into nothingness?

I was initially approached by CR, who I had been told by others was privvy to the secret conversations between the Sublime Master of the Luminous Eagle and the Hermetic Doctor of the Iconospheres of the Green Order of the Tetra-Gnosis to do a piece, "a work" he called it about the upcoming end of the world. Was I interested? He wouldn't be able to provide any assistance, he said. I would be on my own. Did I have any ideas? What would my approach be?

We set up a meeting to discuss The Project in Jerusalem (where else!) in the Chamber Below the Rock. Tradition held that the initial nine Templars met here when Venus and the Moon coincided in a particular way with the number 13, and there were still those who met, unknown to others...

But I'm getting ahead of myself. When we finally met he was dressed non-descriptly in shirt and tie. The face was a fake I thought. Could I see the gleaming of "the pink" under the eyes? It didn't matter. We started with a few innocuous questions:

"Have you been to the Acropolis?" he asked.

On a hunch I said, "Only as far as the Propylea."

"What did you see?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The shell of the turtle," I replied, "the scratching of glyphs in the Dust."

I can't reveal all that was said, but it went on for a few more turns and then:

"Could you see the ark?" He asked. Now he was leaning forward. Was that too forward?

"I saw its reflection," I replied. "I could not see more without burning out my eyes."

We both laughed, stood up, and clasped each other like the brothers we were, both initiates into the Johannite Fraternity of Ancient Brethren of Odin.

"There aren't too many of us left," he said and sighed.

"There don't need to be many," I said, and he nodded.

He opened his satchel and brought out a few documents for perusal. Calendars, Pleidian charts, Telluric stream mappings, the usual stuff in this kind of research. Had I heard of the Cosmological Meditations Society, he asked and I nodded. One particular branch he said, and specifically did not mention the name, was preparing to "codify the ineffable knowledge" of the upcoming Transportation and Evolution of the World for a few particular initiates. Was I interested in participating in this endeavour?

Of course I said yes. We exchanged a few more pleasantries and then we prepared to leave.

"How will we keep in touch?" I asked.

"Post your files," he said. "We will find you."

Here are the ongoing results of my research, updated as time and the ancient chthonic forces of dark allow. I've organized them in various sub-groupings. If you have stumbled onto these files by mistake quickly avert your eyes. You are not meant to read them and they will harm you.

You have been warned.