The Wolf to the Bloodworm: “Is it possible to be in this world and not creep?”
The Bloodworm to the Wolf: “Only if eternal death is truly possible.”
The Wolf to the Bloodworm: “But how do we know whether this is possible or impossible?”
The Bloodworm to the Wolf: “You have said it yourself, and so you are unable to comprehend your beginning and your end.”
Who is this one?
The one who looks down
on all that has been made
What shall they call him?
His name is Lupus
one filled with power
He rides upon the storms
He has beds upon twelve thousand hills
He make the agnus to lie down
in his pastures
He hides himself in the cleft
of the agnus
And sweet milk flows
From the mountains he folds
into the palms of his hands
He treads the bottomland
rich and fertile
and sweet wine
flows forth for him
His name is Lupus
His eye flashes
And who can endure it?
Who can know it?
His name is Lupus-Cain
His eye gazes
And no creature can pluck it out
Who can know the ways of Lupus-Cain?
He rides upon the storms
He rides upon the waves
He carries many treasures
in his heart
and in his eye
Yes, he hides himself
in the agnine cleft
And there he steals away
Two students were out walking one evening on a university campus, also known as Universitas.
The first student, who loved to be called Teacher, called to the other: “Look! There’s an eminent scholar speaking in the bowels of our school and only a few have been invited, but we’re among them. Put on your best outfit and come to this talk. If we go, we’ll no doubt be seen by all the other teachers here. Our attendance will be noted and we may even be allowed to speak. If you come, I’ll introduce you to the most pinguid of them. You must meet the one who runs the Center at the state university!”
This one who loved to be called Teacher also loved money and the comforts of suburban life. Not only was he raised in a mall, but he also taught at a for-profit institution and loved to boast about his station.
The second student acknowledged that the first was speaking, but didn’t respond immediately, for he was weighing his reply carefully.
After a few moments he answered, “Friend, I’m going to the Supper this evening instead of rushing to the garbage heap. If I’m going to be a vermin, I’d rather nibble on the Host with the Most, than be one of these vultures trying to take a bite out of the Shit Pie.”
Shall we pray for those who parade in lewd hats and seek to consume the flocks of the Lord?
As someone once wrote: “I know that we must make due distinction between the individual and the abominable and accursed seat [of the beast]. But I do think that those who pray specially for him who bears the mark of reprobation, have surely much time to spare. I lay down laws for no man, but it is a matter of concern that the sobriety of prayers should express the reverence we feel for the name of God.”
When Wolf feeds with his eyes, what is the nature of his eating? The answer is this: he consumes passing shadows, which we call the filth of form, and a host of empty representations that condemn the whole body to eternal burning.
Let this be a warning to anyone who would gaze on external things, saying in their heart, “I will only look, but will not touch.”
And so this should be our prayer, “Have mercy, Master. Tear out the eyes so that the body might be preserved.”
What is the character of Lupine vision?
First, it is defined by curiosity. This curiosity is not intrinsic to the Lupine inner-eye, but to all external things. That is, the curio of all things evokes the actio of Lupine sight. The curio, though diffuse, exists in degrees and derives its intensity from what we call form.
Second, it is defined by fear. Embedded within the inner-eye is a sense of primal terror, that is, terror that it cannot be left unto itself. It is therefore driven to move outside itself as sight, uniting itself to external forms according to the drag of the curio.
Third, it is ordered as a circuit. The Lupine inner-eye desires to ever be outside itself. Form beckons to the Lupine inner-eye through the call of the curio. Lupine sight therefore goes out in order to unite itself to a particular form, returning into itself in order to care for the form.
Fourth, it is ordered according to dyadic symmetry. From the innermost part of the inner-eye, Lupine sight goes out as an ephemeral tone that repeats itself in two soundings: one which is a uniform whirr that oscillates between the audible and nearly inaudible, and the other that cries out as a piercing crack. This latter sounding is that which arouses the attention of whatever form has been laid hold of.