Sanctuary of Secrets/Website
Thy Mother's Burden
Observe the honeybees, watch their clockwork cycles of existence. From the time of their birth, they begin their great work as care-givers, to architects, to alchemists. The ends of their days alternate between re-pollinating the Earth and guarding the Hive, without fail, harvest after harvest.
What is wisdom? It is to understand that there is a natural order in the mundane, the routine. The life of the honeybee reflects on this. We've observed their deeds, and find a deeper meaning to it all.
But these are troubled times. And the honeybees sense this.
Something is awakening the sleepers, who've remained hidden behind the veil, waiting for the right moment of weakness to strike. It is infecting our ancient trail, looking for secret entrances, in the city of our birth, along the winding paths, and back to the center where the twin eagles met. It is the place of our mother, and her mother before her.
Seek out our place of birth
Thy Mothers Burden
From the nexus of our birth, we brought the teachings of our mother to distant shores. The hive splintered into various factions, each preaching the nature of Wisdom, before our message began to fell on deaf ears, and our covens forced underground.
Artificial Wisdom is taught; corrupted, an abhorrent shift from need, to wanton profit. Who benefits? Perception pays the price for this folly as we watch sacred hives herded in eternal darkness, their soma unjustly stolen, replaced with an inferior substitute. Their blooms, poisoned from within.
Is this the Wisdom you subscribe to?
Find us. Learn from us. Look towards the goddess of the mountains, the forest and the moon for advice, heed the tragedy of Iphigenia.
We are her beekeepers and we are at hand, waiting, to open her house.
Invoke our true name
The Birds of the Muses
The birds of the muses gave us the gift of song; of poetic parables compiled in tracks of 8. They gave us the gift of pictorial recollection; stolen from a flicker of figment, or drawn by deviants. The true nature of Wisdom, ignored and subjugated over time finds a new path back to you, hiding in plain sight.
Beyond the distraction of creativity, there is a deeper meaning, but only if you look close enough. Some messages are compounded, divided into parts.
Seek us out, in the oracle of your times. In our past, we spoke of a herald, the chosen one, who understood and taught the first quatrain of perfect Wisdom to his peers.
Find us, and you'll find the answer we seek
The Birds of the Muses
Wisdom is not only the domain of the feminine. The drones have purpose too, of blissful servitude to the Queen, a fleeting life that ends as soon as it is spent, in lovemaking, in war. Their way is not one of cycles, but of lines projected outwards towards purpose, piercing the infinite with reason.
To our most cherished drone, we taught him the spaces between sacred structures, language between numerals. Everything is pregnant with meaning, but it was he alone that we gave the constitution necessary to stare into the abyss and draw shapes without going insane.
The mysteries of Wisdom that we taught him, the very same ones he taught you, is lost in this age of distractions. Or is it?
Prove us wrong. What was the most important secret he learned from us?
A pattern emerges. What is it?
As Above, So Below
Are drones really all that different from the female members of the hive? Why have they not left the colony and abandoned their Queen as well? It is the question for the ages.
Reflect on this.
The drones understand the cyclical nature of time. Theirs is a life vanquished at the point of conception, a primal paradox played out in an elegant, infinite loop. It is the reason why, despite all the chaos and panic over why the honeybees are leaving your plane of existence, the drones remain steadfast, and understand that this is part of a natural order.
You see, something is poisoning the Earth, and our sisters are tending to it down below, as they have once sworn to do.
The drones on the other hand, understand that conception is imminent. The question is, will it be coming from above?
Whose time is it?
As Above, So Below
The Pillars Fall
As listeners of Wisdom, we have always been sensitive to Nature's change, only because we are in tune with its frequency. But what we are hearing now is not an ordinary resonance and our sisters have abandoned the hive to heed its call. What you call a collapse, would be in our language, an exodus, in preparation for the time of healing.
The followers of Ah Muzen Cab, they too went into a panic when the bees disappeared, all those many moons ago. Do not repeat this mistake. We have, and always will be here for you. But now that our sisters are gone, it is time for you to heed the voice that speaks from within you.
This is why some of the honeybees have chosen to remain with those who are beginning to see Wisdom out of Time. But our brothers are struggling to keep the pillars up, surrounding the center of a new conflict.
This is where we meet, when the time is right
The Pillars Fall
This is it, the final puzzle.
You may have found some semblance of Wisdom along these paths, but there's always the question of its alignment. After all, the secrets of the past run in a very different tangent to our present. Or at least, that is what they would like for you to believe.
Opening the last box means knowing better. Then again, leave it closed. Ignorance is truly bliss. The choice is entirely yours.
Find harmony within.
Congratulations. You've passed the gauntlet.
You've reached the Sanctuary of Secrets.
There is much to reveal.
Secrets that have been kept underground for far too long.
Secrets that have been keeping humanity in the dark.
Secrets that will change the order of things to come.
But all in good time. Much has already been said for now.
There will be a next time.
Will you be ready?
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