Death poem …

DEATH POEM … (a story about gay suicide)

monks
Buddhist monks, Street photography, 2011.

 

Death Poem is dedicated to the many gay men, all around the world, who take their lives each year .. because they cannot cope with not being accepted for who and what they are…..

DEATH POEM: the story of Keiji and Ichiro.

 

Red on red - Luck is fleeting, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm., 2013.
Red on red – Luck is fleeting, oil on canvas, 50 x 50 cm., 2013.

PART ONE: ICHIRO’S JOURNEY TO TOKYO.

Ichiro had just boarded the Nozomi train from Osaka to Tokyo, a trip that would take approximately two and a half hours. Ichiro lived with his parents in Ashiya, a residential and industrial suburb of Osaka. He would meet his long-time friend Keiji at Narita Airport the next day, and together they would embark upon the adventure of their lives: a two-week journey to Norway – the land of salmon and fjords. Neither Ichiro nor Keiji had been to Europe before, and Ichiro had never even been outside of Japan. Ichiro could hardly wait to see his friend again. Keiji and his family lived in Yokohama, but Keiji could not leave for the airport before early tomorrow morning.

Ichiro was fortunate compared to Keiji. Keiji’s family (especially his father) considered him to be somewhat of a ‘disgrace’ and his father had more-or-less disowned him. Not only had Keiji chosen to study fashion design over a more practical and (in his father’s eyes “honourable”) profession like shipping, or even biotechnology (like his older brother), but after overhearing gossip about his son being “gay” Keiji’s father (Sadao) and his mother (Akemi) decided to confront their son straight out. This was quite unusual (especially in their family) as embarrassing issues were simply not discussed. The problem was that Keiji’s father (in the management team of a company with several important government contracts) was one of three persons in the leadership group being investigated under corruption charges. It was hell at work, and it seemed as if the internal search for a ‘scapegoat’ was getting more intense all the while. One of Sadao’s colleagues from work had commented to another at the job that he had seen Sadao’s son Keiji in Shinjuki ni-chome (Tokyo’s popular gay district). Aside from being an added threat to the already difficult situation at work, this rumour (which had quickly spread like wildfire throughout the executive offices) was also a personal insult for Sadao: he had not only “failed” at his job .. but also in raising his son. Sadao was so full of anger and consternation that he broke with his traditional rather stoic fatherly demeanour and confronted his son directly. Although Keiji dreaded the psychological abuse he knew would come from his father in the form of silence, avoidance of eye-contact and shortness of communication, he could not lie to his parents – as that would be the ultimate sin. So he confessed not only to being gay, but also admitted that his relationship with Ichiro, his close friend of many years (and who was much liked – especially by Ichiro’s mother) was more than a mere “good friendship” between two young men.

On his 22nd birthday, and after eight months of “sitting in the doghouse” Keiji decided to leave his family home and Yokohama. He and Ichiro had decided to move into an apartment in Tokyo together – enabling them to create and live a gay lifestyle together without the scrutiny and judgment of their families and neighbours. Ichiro, 21 years of age, had never been to Tokyo before but had always dreamed of one day living in the bustling city of hopes and dreams. Ichiro’s parents had known that he was gay for years, but had always hoped that it was just a “stage” in his life and that he would eventually marry and grace them with grandchildren. They knew from experience that to pressure Ichiro in any great way would only encourage him to do the opposite of what they wanted.

Ichiro was worried about Keiji. Keiji had been suffering from depression the past half-year, and he had told Ichiro that his symptoms had periodically ranged from agoraphobia (fear of leaving one’s safety zone) to obsessive-compulsive behaviour and panic/angst attacks. The worse the relationship between Keiji and his father became, the more Keiji was convinced that he would soon die: either of an accident or other disaster .. or from an act of violence. Sometimes Keiji would make appointments only to break them just a quarter of an hour before he was supposed to show up. When his panic attacks were at their worst, Keiji had to breathe into a paper bag to regain control.

Together, Ichiro and Keiji had agreed that Keiji must get out of Yokohama and away from the negative situation that his failing relationship with his father had created. For Keiji it was a question of sanity and survival, as well as self-respect. He felt “dirty” in his father’s presence, and constantly took showers and washed his hands in order to feel and be seen as “clean” .. but nothing helped. Things remained the same. No arguments .. no physical violence .. just silent shame that was re-warmed over and over, again and again, day after day, moment after moment. It was unbearable.

As the train pulled out of the station Ichiro leaned back into his seat, relieved that no one else was sitting next to or directly across from him. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a novella that he had ordered over the Internet (and which he had covered with cloth in order to hide the original book cover). It was a homo-erotic gay fantasy about a group of gay friends in Europe, including their gay lifestyles, their adventures and their love affairs. The novella was written in English and French, which made it all the more exciting for Ichiro, as he had studied European literature at school and had also studied both English and French. It seemed like the perfect story to read before their journey to Norway as the novella took place in Oslo as well as other cities in Europe and the USA. Even though Ichiro had received the book in the post a week and a half ago, he had decided to wait until this train trip to Tokyo before reading it. He had actually ordered two copies, one of which he had sent to Keiji as a gift of inspiration for their journey and their new life as an “out” gay couple. If nothing else it would give Keiji something to read on the long plane ride to the airport in Oslo.

Ichiro opened the book and nestled into the world of fantasy. After reading for about forty-five minutes, Ichiro closed the short book and looked up at the man in his mid-twenties who was seated across from him. Ichiro knew that someone had gotten on the train and taken a seat across from him about twenty minutes earlier, but he was so engrossed in his reading that he hadn’t bothered to look up and see whom it was. The man was attractive and well-dressed; he looked like he must live in Tokyo. The slightly older man smiled, nodded to Ichiro and commented: “It must be a good book! You have been quite involved in your reading, and I could not help but notice that at times your face looked quite flushed – almost as if you were embarrassed – and at others you seemed to be snickering to yourself; and even looked a bit sad at moments.” Ichiro felt embarrassed at the attention, and by the stranger’s astuteness.

“Are you a writer .. or a psychiatrist?” he asked – half-joking, but also half-serious.

“Neither,” replied the man in amusement. “My name is Chokichi. I am an aspiring television actor. I have only had a few small roles so far, but things are looking up. I spend a lot of time studying facial and body expressions. They go right into my theatrical repertoire for future use. And you – are you studying in Tokyo?”

“Me, no! I am moving to Tokyo soon, but first I am off on a trip .. abroad”, said Ichiro in a manner characterised by boasting young men. Ichiro did not normally speak so freely with strangers, but he felt a slight affinity with this man. Nonetheless he thought it wise to watch his tongue.

“I see; how exciting! Are you by chance going to the USA? I was just there a year ago – in Los Angeles and New York City for two months.”

This caught Ichiro’s attention. “No, I do hope to travel to the USA one day. We are .. I mean, I am going to Norway – with my best friend – for a few weeks. It will be my first time in Europe. I am very excited.”

Just then they noticed that they were approaching Tokyo, and most people began scrambling to assemble their baggage before disembarking but Ichiro and Chokichi just remained calmly in their seats. Neither was in any rush. When the last of the passengers were about to walk out of the train car, Ichiro and Chokichi both gathered up their bags and stepped off the train onto the platform. They shook hands, and Chokichi gave Ichiro his card saying: “If you and your friend need help finding work or an apartment, you might want to give me a telephone call. Here is my number. I have a lot of friends and contacts here in Tokyo. By the way, have a wonderful journey and please bring a little European culture back with you when you return to Japan. Most only bring back photographs …”

And they both laughed and went their separate ways. Chokichi to the nearest taxi stand, and Ichiro in search of an inexpensive hotel room not too far from the airport since he would meet Keiji there at 10 a.m. the next day.

Japanesescreen
Japanese screen, Indoor photography, 2013.

PART TWO: ICHIRO AND KEIJI EMBARK UPON AN ADVENTURE.

Ichiro did not expect gay life in Oslo to be like it was portrayed in the sex novella. He barely believed the authenticity of the scenes portrayed in France and the USA. After all, who could really believe that policemen in New York City had sex in their uniforms, or that an electrical power outage in the Le Marais district of Paris could result in such free sexual behaviour? He certainly could not imagine such things happening in Osaka or Yokohama … or even in Tokyo. But then again, Ichiro had seen a television report on Gay Pride Day in several cities where some gays were dressed up as policemen, and he knew that several policemen in large cities in the USA and Europe now were openly gay. The homo-erotic stories of these “crazy” European and American gays were exciting to him – both sexually, and also in terms of the sense of freedom and personal identity portrayed. As he sat alone in his small hotel room Ichiro’s thoughts turned to his friend Keiji. He wondered how his farewell with his family had been; if Keiji would soon begin to feel better now that he had made the decision to leave Yokohama … and he wondered how it would be for them finally to be able to be together without pretending that they were just good friends. And then he thought about Keiji’s swimmer physique, his soft eyes, his perfectly-formed long fingers … and wondered if their relationship would grow or be challenged by the possibility of sexual openness and opportunity. They had never discussed having a monogamous relationship and Ichiro did not know if Keiji had sex with other men than him. He never told Keiji about his own escapades with strangers. Would they end up like the characters in the novella ‘Entre Nous’ – wanton, jealous and creating one scandal after another? The idea both frightened and excited Ichiro. He knew from the Internet and from television that morals connected with scandals and shame were changing radically in many countries in the West, and even in large cities in Japan. Young people all over the world were becoming part of the “free generation”, leaving the official old values of the previous generations to crumble in the dust. Recently Ichiro had even seen naked women reading the news and presenting weather forecasts on Japanese mobile TV.

Ichiro had trouble sleeping with all the excitement of tomorrow’s plane trip, of meeting Keiji … and all the thoughts and questions going through his mind.

He arrived at Narita Airport early, and ate a leisurely breakfast while reading the morning paper. The paper contained a disturbing article about sickly HIV-positive persons on Papua New Guinea who were buried while still alive … some screaming out to their relatives as the dirt was shovelled onto their not-yet-dead “corpses”. Ichiro knew of one person who had had HIV in Osaka. He had committed suicide by hanging shortly after his condition was confirmed. The “disgrace” to his family was too great a burden for him to carry. Ichiro thought to himself: ‘The world can often seem quite a cruel and cold place … beyond the realms of human justice and empathy.’ Just then Keiji called out his name and waved to him: “Ichiro! Ohayo! Good morning my friend!”

Keiji looked good. He was wearing a red shirt, white trousers and a black jacket. He looked as if he had spent the last week at a sun-tanning studio. “How healthy you look!” exclaimed Ichiro.

“Konnichiwa (hello)! Thanks – you too,” replied Keiji. “But do not be deceived … it is all clothes and make-up. Inside myself I feel like shit.”

“Well you could have fooled me … but I have always liked the way you look,” cooed Ichiro while pressing his palm firmly into Ichiro’s firm abdomen as he released himself from their salutatory embrace. “Now what is this about ‘make-up’?’” he asked, stepping back a couple of inches to observe more closely.

“Oh, just some cosmetic cover-up cream I borrowed from a girlfriend to help hide the bags under my eyes from not sleeping. The past week with my parents and relatives has been extremely stressful. So much suppressed emotion – and then there is my father who is still treating me formally, as if I were a stranger to him. I tried to talk with him one last time yesterday – that is why I could not be here before today – but it was no use. He cannot accept my being gay; and nothing will ever change that. ‘We are just not compatible’ he says. Imagine saying that to your own flesh-and-blood; to your own son!” Keiji had tears in his eyes, which he quickly rubbed away saying: “Damn it! There goes my make-up job…” Then they both laughed, and Ichiro bought himself another coffee … and Keiji bought himself breakfast.

Their flight to Oslo entailed a transfer in Paris. Unfortunately they would not have enough time to explore the city, and just as well that they did not try to either: they got lost several times in the Charles De Gaulle airport terminal. Heaven knows if they had made it around Paris and back to the airport in time – even with almost three and a-half hours layover before the connecting flight to Oslo.

While wandering through the tax-free luxury stores at the airport in Paris, Ichiro asked Keiji if he had read the novella he had sent him. Keiji blushed and said: “Yes … it was very hot. I had a difficult time keeping it hidden from my mother and my all-too-curious brother. The novella afforded me an opportunity to get ‘lost’ in some other (more pleasant) thoughts … ”

“Perhaps THAT is why you have not been sleeping, Keiji,” quipped Ichiro while putting his arm around his friend’s shoulder. Keiji laughed and commented back: “Not the primary reason, but it did help to take my mind off of other things for a couple of evenings. By the way, I hope you realize that that was just gay fiction … and that that stuff just doesn’t really happen in actual life … But an exciting fantasy all the same.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” replied Ichiro. “However, I am not so certain that all of the situations in the novella are so very far from gay reality in some big cities. Gays in large Western cities are much more free and open in their lifestyles than we are in Osaka and Yokohama, but I do sometimes hear stories about some crazy things going on in Tokyo. However, I do not expect to fall in love or lust with anyone other than you on this journey to Norway, Keiji. Think! We do not have to ‘sneak around’ anymore in order to be together.”

They both looked at each other, smiled and Keiji held Ichiro’s hand briefly. Almost instantly, Keiji then looked around to see if anyone had seen their momentary intimacy. Not only did everyone seem indifferent and self-occupied, but Keiji even noticed a “gay couple” not far from them – the one giving his friend a kiss on the cheek as they slowly walked in the direction Keiji and Ichiro had just come from, pulling their luggage behind them. Keiji looked at Ichiro, gave him a peck on the cheek and said: “No, Ichiro … you may be right. I am no longer in my father’s house.”

Ichiro was surprised at this sudden display of public affection … but inside himself he was glowing with pride and excitement for things to come.

Once on the airplane en route to Oslo, Keiji pulled a sealed envelope out of his knapsack before putting the bag in the overhead carry-on luggage compartment. When he sat down beside Ichiro, Ichiro asked: “What’s that?”

“I am not sure,” replied Keiji. “My father handed this to me as I left the family home, and asked me not to open it before I had landed in Norway. My curiosity is unbearable, so I thought I would open it now. Perhaps it is an apology, or some sorely-needed loving words from father to son.”

Ichiro smiled and squeezed Keiji’s hand saying: “I am certain of that, Keiji. You are the most lovable and honourable man I know.”

Keiji quickly tore open the envelope and began reading the paper inside. His expression quickly changed from expectant happiness to horror and sadness. His eye ducts overflowed with tears as he shook his head and mumbled: “You x9@**+ … how could you do this to me?!! And who the hell do you think you are: Yukio Mishima?!!”

Ichiro – moved by his friend’s reaction, and quite concerned about what Keiji’s father had written – pleaded with Keiji to show him the letter. Keiji let the letter drop from his trembling hands, and Ichiro immediately scooped the letter up and began to read it. It was a traditional death poem (jisei) – announcing his father’s impending death. True to form, the poem was full of metaphors and images (autumnal references, sakura (cherry blossoms), setting suns, impending nightfall and softly falling snow on distant mountaintops). The word death or suicide was not written specifically, but the meaning was not to be misunderstood.

The most dramatic aspect of the poem was its form: Keiji’s father had elected to write the poem in the style of waka – five units consisting of five – seven – five – seven – seven syllables. Ichiro gasped and uttered: “This is a seppuku jisei – he has committed ritual suicide!”

Keiji’s swollen eyes, clenched fists and flushed cheeks expressed both sorrow and anger. “He might just as well have thrust the sword through my own heart – the effect would have been the same … or perhaps easier for me. Now I have to live with the shame I would not own – he has found a way to get me to feel the shame and disgrace he has tried to enforce upon me.”

Ichiro could not comprehend that Keiji’s father had written a seppuku jisei. Not only was it very old-fashioned, but it was generally only used by persons of extreme importance. He therefore understood Keiji’s remark: ‘And who the hell do you think you are: Yukio Mishima?!’ He had perhaps understood it better had Sadao chosen one of the more popular forms of suicide today, employed by the overworked and those who failed at their jobs. But seppuku was extreme.

Keiji continued: “If only I had not been seen in Shinjuki ni-chome that day … perhaps then … No, he is an arrogant, sick, selfish son-of-a-bitch – blaming me for his problems at work. And my poor mother … I can only imagine what she is going through …. “

Ichiro embraced his friend and asked a stewardess to please bring them some water, explaining that his friend had just received some very sad news.

When the stewardess had returned with the water Ichiro thanked her, and clasped Keiji’s hands insisting: “When we arrive in Oslo, you must call home immediately. Perhaps this is just a dramatic gesture; a warning. It may not be too late to stop him …”

Ichiro tried repeatedly to convince Keiji to call home as soon as they arrived in Oslo; and was prepared to cancel the trip and return on the first flight back to Tokyo. But Keiji pulled away, saying: “Never! Besides my father never bluffs. It is too late, and the worse thing I can do is to take contact now. The family’s shame is now doubled … and so is mine: not only have I caused this tragedy, but I have survived my father at my family’s expense. Let us not discuss this again, Ichiro. It is too painful. My family now consists of you and me.” And with that, Keiji folded the poem into a paper crane and tucked it into his wallet. He slept the rest of the way to Gardemoen Airport in Oslo.

Keiji awoke suddenly to Ichiro’s nudging and gentle voice: “Wake up Keiji. We are about to land in Oslo. We are in Norway!”

Sushi table.
Sushi table.

PART THREE: DISCOVERING NORWAY.

Both young men were exhausted – physically and emotionally – when they arrived at their hotel in the centre of Oslo. It was the thirteenth of May, and it was raining outside. While Keiji made his way to the hotel room bathroom, Ichiro moved the two twin beds together – making a full-sized bed – and closed the curtains. He was already half-undressed when Keiji stumbled out of the bathroom and literally fell into bed. Ichiro kissed him lightly on the forehead and then on the lips and whispered: “We both need some sleep – let me help you out of your clothes.” Keiji did not resist, and soon they were both sound asleep – with Ichiro’s lean body spooning that of Keiji. It was almost seven o’clock in the evening when Ichiro awoke. Keiji was already awake, sitting in his underpants at the small desk on the window side of the hotel room … with his back facing the bed.

“Have you been awake for a long time?” asked Ichiro from the bed, while rubbing his eyes.

“Only for about an hour,” replied Keiji. “I was full of thought and decided to get up and write a little in my diary. I was just about to take a shower … care to join me?”

“Wouldn’t you rather fool around here in bed a little first?” suggested Ichiro while kicking back the sheets to expose his aroused manhood showing through his briefs.

Keiji turned half-way towards Ichiro and smiled, saying: “I would like nothing more … but later. Right now I mostly want to take a long hot shower, and then to go down to the restaurant downstairs and try some typical Norwegian food.”

“I am also hungry. Go ahead … I will follow after you.”

After Keiji had closed the door to the bathroom, Ichiro stood up and stretched and pulled back the drapes – delighted to see that the rain had stopped. On his way to the bathroom he heard Keiji brushing his teeth and shaving. As Ichiro was about to walk past the desk he saw that Keiji had not closed his diary. He was very tempted to take a little peek at what Keiji had just written. He did, in fact, begin to read the first sentence on the latest diary entry page, but quickly pulled himself away realizing that it would be an imposition on his friend’s privacy that was well beyond the boundaries of their close friendship.

Ichiro felt a bit guilty as he opened the bathroom door … although they usually shared most of their thoughts with each other, Ichiro could feel an underlying uneasiness between them regarding Keiji’s private thoughts about dealing with depression. At moments Ichiro felt as if even an all too lingering glance felt like a transgression to Keiji. At the same time, he was relieved to see that Keiji was at least trying to express his thoughts in his diary, and was (therefore) not in a state of denial. He knew that Keiji had been diagnosed as “manic-depressive” (bipolar) and was familiar with his mood swings. He totally understood – especially now after the “mind trip” his father had put over on him – the effects of the traditional old-school of “shame and silence”. It was a murderous form of control which had destroyed many who could not accept the confines of social and familial expectations. They both knew of many young gay men who led double lives; who were married with young children and who still had their secret lives – which entailed sex with either other women … or men. No one made such a big deal about it as long as appearances were kept up; and as long as it was not put in others’ faces. ‘This was the big problem for many gays today, he thought … the segregation of life expressions and the shame of living a lie contra the fear of creating shame for one’s loved ones by being open.’ “The best thing I can do for Keiji is to just be there for him … exert no great pressure, offer no unasked for advice and to follow his moods as best as I can …” And with that thought in his head he put on his most endearing smile and opened the glass door to the shower, snuggling inside the one-man shower stall with the love of his life. After a bit of kissing, some fondling and washing each other’s backs they dried off and tumbled back into bed – not caring that the heavy drapes in front of the almost see-through white curtains were not drawn – and made love for the first time in weeks. They never made it down to the hotel restaurant, but turned on the television, and watched some American situation comedy re-runs as they devoured the smoked salmon with egg and the shrimp with mayonnaise sandwiches they had had delivered by room service. And that was how they spent their first evening in Oslo – sitting in bed together, eating, laughing, watching TV and drinking Norwegian beer. Ichiro had never felt happier; and Keiji managed to put the deepest reaches of his depression temporarily aside. Even his constant migraine headaches and backache seemed to be diminished for the moment. His emotional chains and shackles permitted him a bit of reprieve … he was on vacation with the love of his life; his newly-established “family”.

They enjoyed an early breakfast the next morning. It was excellent Spring weather, and they were advised by the hotel receptionist to buy the “Oslo Card”, which would enable them to gain free admittance to most of the city’s museums and free public transportation for either one, two or three days. This seemed perfect for them as they had planned to do sightseeing in the capital city and to enjoy the national day (“the seventeenth of May”) before travelling further to the western city of Bergen, where they would take a ship called the “Hurtigruten” up the coast, before flying back to Oslo from Tromsø in northern Norway and returning to their new life in Tokyo.

Ichiro asked the hotel receptionist if there had been any messages from Japan for either of them, but the receptionist said: “Sorry, not that I can see.” Ichiro looked at Keiji in puzzlement – certain that his family must be attempting to contact him. They had not brought cell phones with them on the trip but Ichiro had told his family where they had a hotel reservation in Oslo.

Keiji replied shortly: “Things were so tense when I left that I forgot to write down the name and telephone number of the hotel here in Oslo for my mother. But I just cannot deal with this right now; I feel so torn between anger and sorrow … and there is nothing I can do. So please stop nagging me about calling home. I will make a decision when we arrive in Bergen … Besides, my mother knows the name of the boat we will be taking up the coast. I can ask if she has sent me a telegram or left me a message when we check in.”

Ichiro was shocked at Keiji’s resolve. Keiji could be quite stubborn when he had made up his mind … ‘Like father, like son’ Ichiro thought; but would never dream of saying that to Keiji. It was a real tragedy … both father and son suffering from deep-seated depression; and with such dramatic consequences.

Ichiro must have dragged them to almost forty museums, and art and photography galleries in the course of the three days. Keiji’s favourite places were the Vigeland Park, with its fantastic statues by the famous sculptor Gustav Vigeland; and the Holmenkollen Ski Jump; whereas Ichiro was fascinated with the Kon Tiki and maritime museums, and the many exciting photography exhibitions about town. They enjoyed both Norwegian, Turkish and Indian cuisine … and even ate at a McDonald’s restaurant once. On the third evening they went to a Japanese restaurant recommended in the tourist guidebook. Ichiro thought it was ‘okay’, but Keiji … being the demanding cognoscente that he was regarding Japanese food traditions … was not particularly impressed … but enjoyed the experience of seeing and tasting “Japanese” food in a foreign environment.

While they did not see any “gay cruising” or transvestites in Vigeland Park (as described in the fictional homo-erotic novella they had read before leaving Japan for Norway) they did see many ‘gay-looking’ men on the streets, and read about the gay saunas in town. They ventured into the city’s oldest gay bar for a beer, but it was almost empty as they were there too early in the evening … and, besides, it was a weekday. But that did not matter. Ichiro and Keiji enjoyed each other’s company and needed nothing more than the personal freedom to be themselves. This also seemed to be great “therapy” for Keiji, whose headaches and back pain still seemed lessened for the time being.

Their last day in Oslo before the short plane trip to the western coast was spent watching Norwegians and persons who had emigrated from other countries to Norway celebrate “17de mai” (“the seventeenth of May”) which is the national day of independence. The entire downtown area was full of persons in diverse costumes – traditional dress from all parts of Norway – singing, eating hot dogs and ice cream, drinking beer, wine and coffee, carrying flags, and smiling to one another while saying “Gratulerer med dagen!” (“Happy birthday!”). Keiji was particularly amazed at how crowded the streets were, and at how connected everyone seemed – so different from the feeling he had had the days before, when most people seemed to keep mostly to themselves and their own business. This was a huge party!

They both got a little too inebriated from the strong Norwegian beer, and Ichiro got a bit of a stomach ache from eating too many hot dogs, and ice cream and cakes. They returned to their hotel around eight p.m., packed their bags in preparation for an early morning hotel check-out and crawled into bed – happy with their time in Oslo, and very excited about the impending boat trip up the coast – which they had read so much about. They had already taken almost one hundred photos between themselves, and there would certainly be many more before the trip was over.

They arrived in Bergen around noon, and therefore had a few hours to walk around town before finding their way to the boat which would take them northward. Bergen was a charming city, and they were fortunate to be there on a day full of sunlight – as they had heard that it often rains there. They had a delightful dinner at a small fish restaurant on a side street. Keiji had codfish with potatoes and vegetables, and Ichiro had fish soup with bread and salad. On the way to the boat they stopped at a store and bought some Norwegian dried fish, which Keiji had tried in Oslo and had become addicted to. The boat was due to sail at 8:00 p.m.

Once onboard, Keiji inquired as to whether there was a telegram or a message waiting for him from Japan. The smiling woman behind the counter replied: “No, I don’t find anything here for you right now … but check back a bit later, as things are rather chaotic at the moment.”

Keiji retired to their small sleeping accommodations, while Ichiro explored the ship. They had agreed to meet at the ship’s main bar at 10:00 p.m. Ichiro waited for Keiji until 10:35 p.m. and then walked back to their room to see if he was still sleeping, but Keiji was not there. Ichiro got an uncomfortable feeling inside himself … knowing that something was wrong. He searched all over for Keiji but could not find him anywhere. Suddenly he thought of Keiji’s diary, and ran back to the room to find it in Keiji’s knapsack. Frantically leafing through the journal to find the latest entry, he re-read the first sentence that he had begun reading previously:

“The softness of the approaching winter is apparent even in the quiet, cotton-like skies on the Norwegian horizon …”

Ichiro felt the first of many tears racing down his right cheek as he read the following words: “I can neither go back, nor can I stay away … for both choices would mean losing myself. The only real choice I have is to join my honourable father in quietude … and together can we perhaps find peace between us in eternal solitude.”

Ichiro was full of grief, inner rage and confusion – but he did not quite know where … or how to direct it. As he passed by the information desk the young woman smiled and waved, saying: “Please tell your friend that there is an urgent message for him from Japan.” Ichiro looked at her with tears in his eyes and replied: “Thank you … I will.”

He took the diary up to the Captain’s office, and avoided gazing out into the sea as best as he could.

THE END.

marina1
Marina, street photography, 2012.

2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel (excerpts).

2014: THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF AN INCARNATED ANGEL.

Many Terrans are still approaching the future with fear and trepidation. It is not too late to realise that our past, our present and our future are of our own creation, at every moment and through each thought, action/non-action and word spoken. And that – through the exercise of multi-intelligence (cognitive intelligence combined with intelligence of the heart and of the soul), and understanding that it is the illusion of separation (reinforced by greed for materialism and power) that maintains our fear-based galactic culture – we can, in fact, determine our present and our future … both individually and collectively.

“2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel” is a work of fiction, depicting one possible reality that we can create. It is not meant to be a prophecy that we should self-fulfill, nor is it written for entertainment value alone. It is designed to provoke reflection. The solutions are only to be found in each and every one of us – beyond the illusions and distractions of individual and collective separation.

‘Kodoish, Kodoish, Kodoish Adonai T’sabaoth’.

COMMENTS ON “2014” by Dr. Santosh Kumar, Allahabad University, India:

2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel by Adam Donaldson Powell, reveals Powell’s creative power at its highest. It is full of a depth of philosophy and sublime vibrations of conscience, the irresistible desire for ‘Eternal cities of Universal light’. Like the wind purifying the woods, Powell in this extraordinary book persistently writes with spiritual and mystical gusto. Powell is a very great literary genius directed towards reviving our soul state.

— Santosh Kumar

EXCERPTS FROM: 2014.

CHAPTER ONE: GA … AND KRISTIANIA, AN ETERNAL CITY OF UNIVERSAL LIGHT.

Ga felt a tear welling up in his right eye as he surveyed the ruins of the physical city below. He and ’Ifafi, his colleague, were on duty and had descended through the vortex from the Eternal city of Universal Light above the Oslo fjord to patrol and oversee the goings on below amongst those who had not ascended. It was always a bit emotional for Ga to return to Oslo – although he had learned the lesson of detachment, he still retained an empathetic affection for the naive romantic disillusionment of humanity. He thought of their fellow angelic guards from the Seventh Heaven and the Seventh Heavenly Palace (Adiel, Heikhali, Afafiel, Tutrbebial, Pahadiel, Agkagdiel, Lifton, Mufliel, Gehirael, Shalhevita, Hukiel, Amilfaton, Asamkis, Halelviel, Ashkanizhael, Atrugiel, Egion, Gedudiel, Aviel, Gehorey, Geroskesufael, Iboriel, Lehavah, Pasisiel, Sarafsion, and Zeburial), who also were stationed at the portals to the various eternal cities of Universal light above Terra. He had chosen Scandinavia and Europe as his preferred centres of assignment for this tour of duty – one of the most honourable appointments since the apocalyptic Intervention had taken place just a short time before. His memories of his life on Terra previous to his ascension were fully intact … and he also remembered clearly his incarnations prior to the last one. Walking through the broken streets of his old neighbourhood, Frogner, he and ’Ifafi found their way to his old apartment – not far from the city-side edge of the fjord. Despite the darkness and the desolation, the memories of watching from above: the fireballs hurtling across the skies for days on end, the constant tremors of the continental firmament and the futile screaming and panic of the residents, Ga truly desired to re-visit his abode from the past quarter century. He was glad that ’Ifafi had come along, as ’Ifafi shared his love and support freely … but never interfered with others’ private thoughts. They rarely spoke in the new Merkabah-tongue (the newly reconstituted intergalactic language of angels), but used their perfected telepathic communicative abilities to always be in “the know”. Ga was in search of déjà vu moments – mementos of experience that held significance in the incarnated soul’s process of development. These moments of remembrance were imprinted into the soon to be incarnated soul to remind the being that he or she is on the correct path … they were triggers and messages of support and acknowledgement from the various parts of one’s soul, parts taken along to Terra and parts left behind in the Interlife. The light beaming from Ga’s third eye quickly led him to the box he was hoping to still find in the cellar of the abandoned building, now consumed by darkness and stillness.

Ga opened the box and reached inside, retrieving a binder containing old documents. He opened the binder and felt the familiar energy of a speech he had held some twenty Terra years before regarding the then opening spiritual vortexes. The speech had been held in Oslo for a small group of fellow Lightworkers. Had they only known then that their channelled information and preparatory work was so important … and that the 144,000 had, in part due to their and other Lightworkers’ work and dedication, multiplied many fold – enabling many, many more to ascend. Ga scanned the pages of the old speech with his right palm, taking in the written information telepathically:

“Now I will talk a little about vortexes and the work I and others are doing in Oslo, in preparation for full activation of the Oslo vortex. I will begin by reading part of a channelling session on vortexes from an entity identified as Lanthrox, and channelled by an entity named ‘Cecil’ ”… The speech explained that vortexes are actually ever-spiralling energy streams made up of light patterns in the form of geometric symbols, which define creation (the Universal Language of Light). After a rather lengthy discourse on the history, nature and function of these vortexes, the document concluded with an explanation of the ninety-nine global vortexes of the Golden Cities (Eternal cities of Universal Light), including ‘Kristiania’ (“Vibrations of Conscience”) – the Eternal City of Universal Light over Oslo, and information regarding the spiritual work of a group of Lightworkers who had been meeting on the outskirts of Oslo 1-2 times a week to cooperate on various projects directed at preparing for full activation of the Oslo-area vortex, and educating those ready to hear about the Earth’s movement into higher dimensions of consciousness. The activities of this group of Lightworkers included: meditation and prayer for guidance and healing, exploratory astral projection into the Oslo vortex, active work with Ascended Masters and angels on personal emotional and spiritual challenges, exhibitions of channelled art and poetry, channelling and distribution of symbols from the Universal Language of Light, angelic channelling by way of talking in tongues, the purifying of energy in Oslo-area churches in preparation for the increased influx of Christos energy and consciousness, and much talking with everyday people about the new state of things in God’s universes, and especially regarding the Earth’s challenges and destiny, as incarnates move forward into the higher dimensions. And finally, the entity then known as ‘Mikael’ urged the audience to join other dedicated Lightworkers who were working to clean out the many vortexes and tunnels across the globe, so that the Christos energy could flow freely … adding: ‘the more Lightworkers who work on this important activity, the faster both personal and Earth spiritual transformation will happen.’

“Adonai …” thought Ga – loudly enough for ’Ifafi to pick up telepathically. ’Ifafi smiled broadly, and returned to his meditation, thus allowing Ga to continue with his spiritual archaeological digging about. Ga breathed deeply and calmly as he “re-read” the contents of several personal correspondences and journal entries:

“Dear Mikael,
I hope that you are well. I would like to remind you that each person is born with one main Force of Nature, and that your dominant/main Force of Nature is Ogun. The qualities of Ogun are:

Force (an unfinished lesson for you)
Pure Justice
Initiative (unfinished lesson)
Pioneering
Truth (unfinished lesson)
Loyalty
Technology

The symbol of Ogun is the sword, and Ogun is (like Ganesh) also the Lord of Obstacles … using his sword to cut away everything that stands in the way of your spiritual progress, and opening the doors to creativity.

The other Force of Nature that you have to work with is Obatala, whose qualities include:

Righteousness
Wisdom (unfinished)
Caretaker of Creation
Ethics
Morals (unfinished)
Humility
Cool (unfinished)
Calm (unfinished)
Purity of Intention (unfinished)
Objective
Clarity of Thought
Purity
Consciousness
Rational Thought
Head
Reality
Light

Forces of Nature are like people sometimes. To work with them requires a very special kind of respect, understanding, and consciousness. Be willing to listen, and to see.

Bless you and good honouring.
Tanakai”

In another channelling Mikael had received the following message:
“There is a close connection through several lives, and you have worked with the energy of angelic consciousness in the Interlife, and actively in your dream consciousness. Consciousness is largely concerned with information, awakening and love. Mikael, you are now taking the final steps towards your completion/value/assignment, and this has been a long and strong experience for you, but one that has been necessary in order to prepare you for the important assignment you have taken upon yourself. The Way is the Goal, but when you stand at the finish line there is a special reward and sense of satisfaction for the soul.”

Ga felt the ‘Mikael’ energy within himself, reminding him of his spiritual journey over several lifetimes. Leafing through an old journal, he found loosened pages in an envelope tucked away in between the pages. There were certain themes regarding lessons to be learned that appeared and re-appeared with regularity, and Ga recognised them immediately: ‘learn to accept others’ thoughts, words, behaviour and expectations as their own, and not necessarily something for me to own or personalise. This regards others’ energies as well: do not take their energies or challenges on as my own. Learn detachment: recognise more quickly the value of each experience, and then let go, and move forward. Failure to do so creates unrealistic expectations of things that are not to be … and makes for getting stuck in situations that impede flow and creativity. I need to accept constant flow and still be complete unto myself in all situations. In this way I can be complete with all entities in Oneness.’ And further: ‘learn to love yourself, and to rely on and trust others and to accept their love. At the same time, continue to help others to find their inner strength and to learn to love themselves. You have volunteered and chosen for yourself difficult tasks in this lifetime because of your strength of Will and Courage, and your love for mankind.’

Ga released a sigh as he momentarily relived his previous struggles to boost his personal spiritual awareness, and the many challenges that had come even after writing these journals entries from 1996. The years of tumult, starting with 2004, increased steadily in intensity until the final five years before the Divine Intervention at the end of 2012. He laughed quietly to himself as he remembered how most on Terra had both overestimated and underestimated the importance of the 9/11 terror attacks. They were tragedies with significance, but the primary importance was truly their function as a major pre-warning before the acceleration towards the apocalypse, which was set in motion just a short time afterwards. They represented an opportunity to wake up and understand the many ways we were consciously (and unconsciously) creating the reality of the Armageddon myths … and were a déjà vu trigger that was almost totally unrecognised as such until several years later. Ga closed the box, arose and abruptly shot a glance and telepathic message in ’Ifafi’s direction: “Let’s go. I am done here.”

CHAPTER THREE, PART THREE: THE DECLARATION, AND A THREAT FROM THE EMPIRE OF ORION.

Ga and ’Ifafi were sleeping soundly – ensconced in each others’ arms and wings – when Ga suddenly opened his eyes, pushed ’Ifafi aside and groaned: “Good morning, my love … get up! We have some research to do.”

“Quei!” (What!), replied ’Ifafi in the new Merkabah dialect, still groggy and rubbing his eyes while scratching an itch under his left wing.

“We (or at least I) need to find out more about the entities and races involved in this intergalactic process – especially the Empire of Orion. We need to be prepared for whatever can happen,” said Ga.

“Relax, my love. Que sera, sera. Det vet du. We cannot do anything to change fate,” replied ’Ifafi, trying to pull Ga back onto his wings.

“Fate!??”, replied Ga, resisting physically. “What are you talking about? This is not a question of fate, but a question of Divine Will, which we are all responsible for – individually and collectively. Let us use our free will to the greatest potential and benefit!”

“D’accord, mon copain,” said ’Ifafi. “I agree, but how about just another hour in bed – together? There is always so much work. Don’t you ever relax and just enjoy the moment, and that which you have attained and achieved? Come, I have something to tell you … and show you …”

“Arrêt ! Je t’aime, mais … concæ måinet queist penwve!”

“Okay, but you do understand that my insistence is actually your own doing?!! If you were not so impudent, beautiful, insistent and sexy, then …”

“Don’t even go there,” said Ga, planting a wet kiss on the broad and fleshy lips of ’Ifafi … and then promptly licking his ear lobes and neck.

“And now it must be I that tell you the same: ‘Don’t even go there! You know that that technique is much more effective to win me over to go to bed with you than to get me to leave being in bed with you!”

Ga began tickling ’Ifafi under his armpits – the most ticklish place for ’Ifafi (and most angels), except for possibly between the third and fourth toes.

“Ha ha … stop! I give up! I will get up. Ha ha … hee hee hee. Nå skal du få igjen, du!” squealed ’Ifafi as he began to tickle Ga.

“Truce!” screamed Ga, laughing out-of-control, and then suddenly gazing deep into ’Ifafi’s soul through the portals of his beautiful eyes. “I love you … je t’aime … jeg elsker deg … tes qofta, tes qofta, ’Ifafi.”

’Ifafi stroked Ga’s hair and gently planted a kiss on his lips, while saying: “Mon coeur, je t’aime aussi. Just tell me what you want … I would march to the ends of the Universes for you …”

Ga then replied (with a slight smile): “Good … then you will certainly have no problem engaging in a little analysis of the situation at hand. We could even make a game of it if you like, perhaps something similar to the old Terra games that were played until recently: like ‘Monopoly’, or ‘Risk’ or an old-fashioned space-age videogame …”

’Ifafi interrupted: “yeah, or perhaps ‘Old Maid’ or strip poker!??”

“Nå må du gi deg, kjære!”, said Ga, then repeating: “Give it up, babe! I do not negotiate love. And who are you insinuating is to be stuck with the ‘Old Maid’ anyway … according to my calculations, your age is approximately …”

“Hey, chill out babe. Bring out the game board … or your computer. Give me a double espresso and a birdseed sweet bun, and I am yours – however and for whatever cause … (of course, within reason … heh heh)”

Ga immediately arose and called food services to make an order for a light breakfast, and then he quickly began getting dressed, modestly turning his back to ’Ifafi.

“Ahhhh …”, said ’Ifafi. “Thank you! Your very best asset in full view!”

Ga freaked out for a moment, wondering what he had set into motion, but then ’Ifafi added: “I just love those wings of yours … especially when in full erection.”

Ga just smiled and wiggled his wings, prompting ’Ifafi to say – in jest: “You wish, my love!”

And Ga replied: “No my dear … YOU wish. But there will be time for that later. Here – take a look at what the computer has to say about the different races involved in this situation …”

’Ifafi began to read aloud from the screen:

‘The Empire of Orion consists of entities who adhere to the Light and the Darkness, and whose centres of power were originally based at two competing star systems. After many wars with the Intergalactic Confederation over hundreds of thousands of Terra years, the Orions were essentially beaten back into a position where their aggressiveness had been contained to their own galaxy – giving relative peace to their neighbouring galaxies, but not necessarily to their colony: Zeta Reticuli. They had, however, achieved a long-lasting peace agreement with both Vega and other neighbours. Basically, the Empire of Orion was at the same level of spiritual and racial transformation as the inhabitants of Terra – slowly moving into the fourth and fifth dimensions.

“‘The hold of the Empire of Orion over Zeta Reticuli can be compared in many ways to the histories of many empires and former colonies on Terra. The topic of self-governance or official autonomy has always been a sore one … ’ ”

’Ifafi then commented: “Ga, my love. It looks as though there may be trouble … especially when the decision to invite Zeta Reticuli into the Confederation is announced – that is, if it goes through.”

Ga shook his head in affirmation, saying: “Yes, exactly. And there is no reason to think that the proposal will not eventually go through the General Assembly. I am quite certain that it will receive the full approval of the Security Council. Vega and Sirius could try to stalemate a quick decision, mostly because of Vega’s trade agreements with Orion … and Sirius’ current strong anti-war stance – but, from what I hear, a proclamation inviting Zeta Reticuli into the Confederation is essentially a ‘done deal’. And both Vega and Sirius will be ‘won over’ if Kartion’s suggestion to offer the Empire of Orion membership as well is approved.

They continued to read countless internal documents and studies of various civilisations that could play a major role in the conflict, including: Alpha Centauri, Lyra, Vega, Zeta Reticuli, Sirius, the Pleiades, Arcturus etc.

After hours of reading and discussion, ’Ifafi concluded: “The challenges and the possible attainments are clear. The real test for the Confederation is not a question of military might – our combined forces are much stronger than those of the Empire of Orion – but rather a test of whether (or not) the Confederation can handle an eventual military provocation and confrontation to the best for the combined and interconnected universes … and without falling back to the behavioural patterns seen on Terra, Orion, Zeta Reticuli and other planets and stars still evolving from a Third Density reality.”

“Exactement,” replied Ga. “THAT is the challenge we really face … it is all connected – the evolution of the members of the Intergalactic Confederation, and that of the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and Terra. Another confrontation of the ‘illusion’ of separation theory.”

There was a great silence after that last comment by Ga – not between the two of them, for they were in unison in their thoughts, but still in reflection and reminiscence. Finally, ’Ifafi said solemnly: “Yeah, it is the same thing we are trying to recover from here on Terra. Greed and separation – it is all about power and materialism. And as the spiral gains more and more momentum, the more egotism there is. Those in charge of the commercial and bureaucratic systems do everything possible to pass on their burdens to those of low stature and limited means, and those who make their living as menial workers in the systems no longer dare to stand out against them and became an even larger part of the problem. This development had been in development for many centuries on Terra before it finally exploded and the Intervention became a reality. It is the same for the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and many other planets and stars. Terran humanoids made life on Terra a living Hell – totally self-created, and reinforced by the new god that they created: the god called ‘power and money’. Let us pray for the Empire of Orion, Zeta Reticuli and the many others who are in the midst of this difficult transition.”

And so they sat in quiet meditation for half an hour before both opened their eyes and Ga muttered: “Adonai. There is no god but God. May we all praise and respect the true godliness in us all, and which rings out throughout our surroundings. But let us remember that within the source of the problem lies also the possibility of an answer. Just think how the restructuring of the entire money and power system on Terra since the Intervention has contributed to the consciousness shift that is now underway.”

“Adonai,” repeated ’Ifafi, revealing a solitary teardrop quickly streaming downward from his right eye – but which did not cool his burning cheeks as intended. The emotion that he felt at that moment was undeniable and could only be soothed once acknowledged.

After some days, the predictions of ’Ifafi and Ga were confirmed. Not only had the proposal passed through the Intergalactic Confederation’s Security Council (with minor objections from Sirius, and an ‘abstention vote’ from Vega), but it also passed in the General Assembly – thus resulting in the following proclamation:

‘We, the Intergalactic Confederation, hereby proclaim that we support the positive consideration of eventual applications for membership both from Zeta Reticuli (one and two), and the Empire of Orion, and that we consider the demand of the populace of Zeta Reticuli to be in compliance with the constitution of the Intergalactic Confederation. It is our sincere hope that the Empire of Orion will see and affirm the wisdom of our proclamation, and recognise the independence of Zeta Reticuli as a sovereign planet and state.’

The reactions from the Confederation member states and from Zeta Reticuli were quite positive, but there was (at first) merely silence and a cold front as the only reaction from the Empire of Orion. But that silence soon gave way to an exchange of bickering and threats, between the leadership on Orion and the Intergalactic Confederation Command. This was a ‘normal reaction’ that was not unexpected, however – the Empire of Orion sent a couple of spaceships armed with lasers both to the galactic borders of Zeta Reticuli One and Zeta Reticuli Two … AND attacked an Arcturian scientific spaceship outside of the galactic borders of Vega. This was, of course, a serious offence … causing disharmony and tension amongst the members of the Intergalactic Confederation. After several crisis meetings, it was decided by the Security Council that a super battalion of spaceships from Terra, Arcturus, Alpha Centauri and the Pleiades would protect Zeta Reticuli and Arcturus, and afterwards confront the Empire of Orion on its own turf. Vega, under pressure from its Confederation co-members, also eventually agreed to participate in the action after much diplomatic activity. The entire Command of Angels was put on high alert, and Ga and ’Ifafi were given the responsibility of organising the military effort under the diplomatic command executed by Kartion.

CHAPTER THREE, PART FOUR: CONFRONTATION.

All eternal cities of Light on Terra were buzzing with activity. The entire Intergalactic Confederation was on high alert. Ga and ’Ifafi had their hands full, cooperating with military and security command managers on Arcturus, Alpha Centauri, the Pleiades, Sirius, Zeta Reticuli and Vega – regarding the organisation of a number of spaceships to participate in the action. Some had the function of protecting the Arcturian scientific spacecraft which had been attacked, and escorting it back to Arcturus. Others were put in position to patrol their own planet’s galactic borders … and Sirius, Terra, the Pleiades and Vega sent vessels to warn the Orions away from the galactic borders of Zeta Reticuli One and Two. These fleets were commanded by Kartion.

The operation was well-planned. Fortunately, the Arcturian scientific exploration ship was not seriously damaged and no one suffered more than some minor bruises and concussions. The Orions did, however, manage to fire a few long-range lasers and missiles at a military installation on Zeta Reticuli Two, causing some local panic and precipitating evacuation to underground tunnels. The Intergalactic Confederation forces moved in quickly, chasing the aggressors back to the Empire of Orion while sending clear messages to the Empire’s political and military leadership that Zeta Reticuli is now considered to have been liberated from Empire rule, and that the Empire can shortly expect a diplomatic visit from the Confederation. The response from Kwiføw, chief military commander of the Imperial Orion Forces, was far from diplomatic: “A diplomatic visit, say you?!! You can go fuck yourselves. Bring it on, Confederates – we have fought you many times before … even on our home turf. Save your diplomacy for when you are screaming ‘uncle’, as they say on Terra.”

’Ifafi was surprised at the crudeness of the response from Kwiføw, but Kartion and Ga seemed to be rather relaxed about the threats. It was agreed that Ga and ’Ifafi would lead the first incursion upon the Empire of Orion, a large battalion of higher-level angels surrounding the main cities and military installations – taking them by surprise, simply by utilising their abilities to shift density. Ga had already called upon and organised his fellow angelic guards from the Seventh Heaven and the Seventh Heavenly Palace: Adiel, Heikhali, Afafiel, Tutrbebial, Pahadiel, Agkagdiel, Lifton, Mufliel, Gehirael, Shalhevita, Hukiel, Amilfaton, Asamkis, Halelviel, Ashkanizhael, Atrugiel, Egion, Gedudiel, Aviel, Gehorey, Geroskesufael, Iboriel, Lehavah, Pasisiel, Sarafsion, and Zeburial, as well as his colleague on Terra: Lysiel.

“They will never know what hit them,” said Lysiel to Ga.

“We will be many, as each angelic guard will lead his own battalion consisting of many angels. In addition, Kartion will lead the battalion of Confederation spaceships surrounding Orion’s galactic borders. They will either reach a settlement with us, or they must choose to suffer the consequences.”

“It will be quite interesting to see what they choose to do,” said Lysiel. “I still do not understand why so many Third and Fourth Density entities still believe that it is essential ‘to suffer in order to learn’.”

’Ifafi commented: “It is perhaps rather a question of pride, which is both an admirable trait … and often a sign of ignorance and egotism. If anyone can convince them, it is Ga. If not, then the Confederation will demand nothing less than a full surrender – and we outnumber the Orions militarily. So, it is not a question of ‘victory or not’, but rather what kind of victory … and whether it will be a victory that even the Orions can embrace and benefit from.”

“All is in place,” announced Ga. We assemble above the capital city of Betel-Rig in two hours – cloaked invisible. I will then make a final announcement to the Emperor, telling of our arrival and imminent incursion.”

And with that the three friends quickly embraced each other, saying: “Adonai!” … and quickly ran off to assemble their units.

THIS BOOK IS CURRENTLY AVAILABLE FROM CYBERWIT AND AMAZON.COM.

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– 2014: the life and adventures of an incarnated angel (bilingual):
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Excerpt from “The tunnel at the end of time”.

ACT 10: “Angels and Ministers of Grace Defend Us!” Hamlet Act I sc. 4

“Lugh, work your way towards me, this one seems to be following me, and has at least one guard with him.”

“On my way, ‘Ifafi. Same here. I think we need to be in as open a space as possible – towards the center of the dome.”

“Agreed. On my way.”

As the pair converged towards the center of the dome, ‘Ifafi grasped the handle of Ga’s sword which was still sheathed, and loosened the tie of his cloak. As soon as they were within eye contact of each other, both ‘Ifafi and Lugh turned towards their adversaries which were advancing a few yards behind them.

Addressing them with all the authority of his angelic presence, ‘Ifafi stated “I don’t know who you really are, or what this little masquerade game is all about, but it will soon be over. We will find the real Niall and this charade will end.”

“No, it is over for you.” The Ekbar double closest to ‘Ifafi responded as he pulled out a gun.

‘Ifafi shucked his cloak and drew Ga’s sword simultaneously. A shot rang out, but was deflected by a lightening fast swing of the sword, as ‘Ifafi took wing towards his adversary faster than Lugh had ever seen any angel move, and with another fierce swing of the sword, the head of the fake Ekbar/Niall was rolling on the floor. The other Ekbar and his companion began to flee, as had anyone else within view. Lugh took flight giving chase, but the elusive doppelganger apparently also had an escape route planned as he disappeared into a hidden panel behind an information kiosk.

“I’ve lost him, damn it.” Lugh transmitted to ‘Ifafi.

“Let him go, I just got a mental image from Ga, we are needed below. Meet me back here. This poor bastard was just wearing a mask.”

By the time Lugh got back to ‘Ifafi, a small crowd of bold, but curious onlookers were beginning to advance as were a number of security force members. “We have to leave, now.” Ifafi said to Lugh who was looking at the unmasked dismembered head lying in a pool of blood on the floor.

“’Ifafi, remind me not to piss you off.”

“Yeah, that was a bit messy wasn’t it.” ‘Ifafi half-chuckled as the pair quickly made their way to their well-planned exit.

Back on Alpha Level, upon realizing the enormity of the conspiracy upon seeing the body of the Prefect laying before him, Ga had paused to send the image to ‘Ifafi.

Turning back to the Sergeant, Ga stated “I must return to our headquarters. Join your men. If you can apprehend one of these fake Ekbars, then do so, I have many questions. If you must wound one to do it, so be it. There has been enough killing here today, but the one we seek is not here. This has been a distraction, a ploy. I will not take a life without reason. Beware, they will have many allies and accomplices, even among the security forces. It is likely they will attempt to lead you into a trap. Keep them out in the open if possible, but they seek me, and my team. I will not be made the fool.”

“Yes sir.” replied the Sergeant.

Grasping the dagger from the body of the Prefect, Ga wiped the blade on the tunic of the body, and returned the weapon to his belt. He then grasped the small device Ulrich had given him as he turned to return to the security offices. “Ulrich, it is more critical than ever that you get to Epsilon Level and make your preparations. We need to immediately shut down all outside access to the facility. No one must leave, and no one must enter. He is still here, and I must make sure he stays here.”

“You’re correct that he is here, Ga, I picked up a faint signal from the NSA chip just a second ago. It appeared to be inside the tunnels, but it was too weak and to brief to get an accurate fix. I have picked up no less than twenty of these fakes though, all throughout the facility. Who the hell are they?”

“They are part of a deception, but also an elaborate plan to distract and ensnare us. One of them was no less than the Prefect himself. His body lies in the main corridor of Alpha level, near the entrance. They are wearing masks.”

“Holy shit! If the Prefect is involved, anyone can be suspect.”

“Exactly. Now you see why your mission is so critical. Do not fail me, Ulrich. All rides on your success now.”

“I shall make all possible haste, Ga. I will not fail.”

“Thank you, Ulrich. Keep me posted.”

Within minutes, ‘Ifafi and Lugh had returned to Alpha Level, and rejoined Ga at their makeshift headquarters in the security offices.

‘Ifafi looked around and asked, “Where’s Ulrich?”

“He’s on his way with the Lieutenant and two other trusted officers to Epsilon Level to hopefully set both our trap and our failsafe.”

“Good. What the hell are all these Niall/Ekbar look-alikes all about?”

“Obviously, it was Niall’s plan to distract and ensnare us down here, but there must be some other motive to it as well that I haven’t quite figured out yet. It is way too elaborate to be just a hoax, and way too transparent to be just a trap for us. Right now, I am assuming that is also a way to mask his own escape from this facility. He wants us to be chasing ghosts, so to speak, while he carries out whatever plans he has. I refuse to play his game.” Ga replied as sternly and angrily as ‘Ifafi had ever seen him.

“So what exactly is your plan?” Lugh asked.

“Ulrich discovered that the original plans for this facility, before the intervention changed everything, was to have the central operations center housed in a rather secure area on Epsilon Level. After the intervention, the newer facilities where our quarters were, were constructed. However, they left the original ops center abandoned, but still fully functional – as some sort of back-up, apparently. Ulrich believes he can bypass both the new ops center on level II and take control of all the environmental systems and other systems housed down on Zeta level as well. That is if Niall has been careless enough to overlook the old ops center and hasn’t done any major redesigns of the old systems that were down there. At the very least, we should be able to seal off the entire facility so that no one can enter or leave.”

“Ah, so whatever he has planned, you intend to trap him here with us.” ‘Ifafi replied.

“Exactly. He will have to come to us.”

There are only three of us. Ulrich will be totally absorbed in his duties.” Lugh interjected.

“I am aware that we are spreading ourselves thin. We have a few members of the security forces. You haven’t met my new friend, the Sergeant. I believe he knows this place as well as anyone, and was loyal in my brief battle with the Prefect. I believe I have a way to tilt the odds a bit more in our favor as well. We will address that shortly, and I shall need your help. Which brings me to your escapade in the dome, ‘Ifafi.”

‘Ifafi seemed to almost blush. Lugh had never seen quite that reaction in an Angel. “Ga, if it’s about your sword, it wasn’t damaged. I just reacted. It was all I had.”

“It’s not about the sword, I’m glad it defended you well. However, we must give you both a few lessons in subtlety. Flying around the central dome in full few of literally thousands of humans and aliens is not exactly keeping a low profile.”

At just that moment, the device in Ga’s ear buzzed again lightly. “Yes, Ulrich. Speak.”

“I’m on Epsilon Level, but it wasn’t without incident. We were attacked by one of the Ekbar clones or whatever you want to call them and his entourage. The Lieutenant is dead. I was grazed by a stray shot. The other two security guards with me managed to kill the two guards with him, and wound the fake Ekbar, but he escaped.”

“Are you certain it was one of the fakes?” Ga asked.

“Yes, at that distance, and with whatever he is using to cloak the signal, I would have been able to pick up at least some trace of the NSA chip.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, just a slight flesh wound. Looks far worse than it really is.”

“Very well. We shall join you as soon as we can. Start your operation as quickly as you are able.”

“We must hurry now. Ulrich may have been detected and I don’t want to give Niall a chance to figure out what we are up to. I just wish I knew what his scheme is.” Ga stated flatly to ‘Ifafi and Lugh.

Deep below, now on Zeta Level, the real Ekbar/Niall was moving forward with his plan. He had managed to have constructed, under the prefect’s forged authority, a rather elaborate bunker, apartment, and suite of offices. He summoned his closest accomplice, a young human, who had been the Prefect’s Aide de Camp, Arthur Kent. Arthur, only twenty-three years of age, was descended from old British royal bloodlines and very much acted the part – always very formal, and his education and training very evident.

“Yes sir, you called?” the young man responded as he opened the door to Niall’s private office.

“Yes, how is our plan proceeding?”

“I’m sorry to report, sir, that the Prefect is dead. He was killed on Alpha level by Ga. ‘Ifafi and Lugh managed to escape the dome after killing an operative there. Ulrich was spotted in the tunnels somewhere near the entrance to Delta Level, but managed to elude our operative there, but was apparently wounded in the battle. We presume that ‘Ifafi and Lugh have re-joined Ga by now, but we still have not figured out how they are moving so quickly and freely, or why Ulrich had gone deeper into the facility alone, save for his security escort.”

“Bloody incompetents, all of them, especially our esteemed Prefect. I should have killed that bastard myself and Ga would have been dead by now. All of this masquerade business seemed ridiculously complex anyway, but it may yet serve its purpose. Well, it is of no matter, Ga and his team will die if I have to kill everyone on Alpha and Beta levels to do it, which is precisely our next move. Have Wilhelm prepare to flood both levels with the nerve gas agent.”

“Yes sir, but don’t you want to try to get at least some of our operatives out first? Also, should I send another team to search for Ulrich?”

“That would be my first choice, Arthur, but I don’t want to do anything to tip my hand to these … these … abominations. They must die. Nothing must interfere with the master plan. Ulrich is of no consequence, we shall eliminate him later. Arthur, you are too young to understand, but this has taken years to prepare. Some sacrifices are necessary. Were it not for the Divine Intervention, and the meddling of this infernal Federation, this would have all happened in 2012. People like you and I have been chosen to rule this planet. We have been given an opportunity like none other in human history. We have spent generations controlling genetics to achieve a superior race, and with our technology, the messy business of pairings and breeding is no longer even necessary. The day of the eugenics wars has arrived, and we shall be the master race – the only race. It is the next step in evolution. First however, we must eliminate … well … the undesirables. The engineered viruses stockpiled here and in sister facilities in Archangelsk and Brazil will be released on what is now left of the population of this planet, and will spread globally within seventy-two hours. The irony of the plan is that the very vaccines given to most of the population over the past generation to fight various other engineered viruses such as certain strains of influenza, and even HIV, were specifically designed to actually break down other parts of the human immune system, making it one hundred percent vulnerable to the weapon we shall release soon, while we and others like us, who truly have nothing to fear from this little bug, just sit back and watch.”

“Yes sir, I truly do understand, but there is something I have always wondered about. Won’t there be a few undesirables who may not be affected – some that for whatever reason weren’t vaccinated?”

“Probably, but they will be so few as to be insignificant, and can be easily found and eliminated in other ways This facility, and the few others like it, will finally serve its original purpose. Now, though, back to the business at hand. How long to prepare the gas for Alpha and Beta Levels?”

“At least ten to twelve hours, sir. It will have to be done manually and carefully to ensure there are no leaks down here. All the safeguards are yet to be tested.”

“Very well. Well let’s get it ready, but I’ll signal you before we begin. Make all haste.”

Back on Alpha Level, Ulrich was calling again and had instructed Ga on how to put him on the speakers at the terminal he had been using, ” I’m in, and I now have control of the computers down here. It looks like everything is just as I thought. I have also established a link to our com system back in our quarters. I have just gotten a communication from Lysiel.  It appears that the Federation agents in Buenos Aires have good news.  Chavez, the brain behind the anti-NWO militia movement in South America, has been captured.  And secondly, Ilya (Antonin and Niall’s accomplice) has just broken down in an interrogation round and he has revealed some significant information about Niall.”

“Yeah?” replied Ga eagerly.

“It would seem that Ilya was the one who hypnotized Niall years ago when his microchip was first inserted.”

“Hypnotized?” exclaimed ‘Ifafi.  “For what?!!”

“Well, apparently it was part of the indoctrination procedures back then.  But the important thing for us to know is that Ilya gave Niall a hypnotic suggestion that would help him to control his microchip detection.  The suggestion was in the form of a code word.”

“Yeah, well?  Spit it out man!” said an agitated Ga.

.
“The code word is: ‘cage’, and every time Ilya hears that word his microchip signal is disabled — essentially making him invisible.”

“Can Niall control this himself … and does he know about it?”

“Apparently, they think that the only ones that know the code word are Antonin and Ilya.  And, by the way, that was the other news: Antonin is dead — he committed suicide before he could be transported to the rehabilitation facility on Zeta Reticuli.  The threat of deportation was what got Ilya to crack under the last interrogation.  It must be quite a nasty place if these NWO guys are so afraid of it,” said Ulrich.

“No nastier than the NWO-facilities right here on Terra,” said ‘Ifafi with a smirk. “Besides, I have it on good knowledge from Lysiel that we are closing in on the ‘Big R’s’, and that they also will soon be transported to rehabilitation centers. So it will soon be a ‘status symbol’ to become rehabilitated. Personally, I feel that those ruling NWO and Illuminati family members need to be tarred, feathered and run off this planet as soon as possible … I am not even certain that rehabilitation of them is possible!” They both sniggered, and ‘Ifafi continued: “But didn’t Niall use ‘the cages have been opened’ or something like that when all this started? I’m guessing he must know and be using it. Maybe Antonin told him the code word.”

“Let us hope not, and perhaps the phrase including the code word is Antonin’s idea of a ruse. Sounds like his sick sense of humor. Well, well … this explains Niall’s disappearances on our surveillance system, and it also gives us some leverage.  We must be VERY CAREFUL not to use the word ‘cage’ around him … and also to cut him off every time we think he will use the word himself,” said Ga thoughtfully.

“Cut him off?” asked Ulrich.

“Yeah,” replied Ga.  “ ‘Ifafi and I must try to read his consciousness and thought patterns in detail every time we are in communication with him in order to anticipate what he might say.  It is a good thing that Antonin is gone and that Ilya is under control… But this is very good news, that Chavez has been finally caught.  The Federation is fighting against both the NWO and the anti-NWO militia groups, and Chavez’ groups were really starting to be a huge problem for us. I also must assume that Ilya, and Antonin are vital components of whatever the master plan is, and that Niall doesn’t know they are out of the picture. Alright then Ulrich, we will be joining you in a couple of hours or so down there. So finish your preparations quickly. Good work!”

“Will do, Thank you, sir.”

About that time, the Sergeant came in with a shackled and bloody unmasked Niall’s double in tow.

“Sergeant, you managed to catch one.” Ga stated with a smile.

“It wasn’t easy, sir, as soon as we picked him up, a mob started to attack us, until I grabbed his face and peeled the mask off and laid down some crowd dispersal gas canisters. I guess they figured a fake wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Very good Sergeant, what happened to the other one?”

“Dunno. He just vanished. Obviously there was some planned panic escape. I’ve been here since the place was first opened to non-CIA personnel in 2009, and I thought I knew every escape hole there was, but that guy simply vanished.”

“Do you know this one we caught?”

“Yes, sir. His name is Smythe. He was the head of the communications section last I knew. He was in charge of all the telecommunications functions of the entire facility.”

“Thank you, Sergeant McConnell. Meet the rest of my team, this is my partner, ‘Ifafi, and our dear friend, Lugh.”

“Very pleased indeed.” The Sergeant stated, shaking both their hands.

“Sergeant, Please cuff our friend here to that chair, hands behind him, and please excuse us. We don’t have time for the usual interviews and shall have to use some unorthodox interrogation methods that you probably don’t need to see.”

The sergeant grinned broadly and quickly complied with the request and exited the room.

“What are you going to do to me?” the prisoner asked.

“We are only going to find out what you know.” Ga stated flatly.

“I am former MI-6. I will tell you NOTHING.”

“Oh, I suspected as much. You don’t have to, but I hope there won’t be any permanent brain damage.”

“Brain damage?” the man’s eyes widened as the three angels approached him, shedding their cloaks with their wings beginning to stretch.

“Ifafi, Lugh, join me if you will.”

Ga placed his left hand on the man’s head. ‘Ifafi placed his right hand on Ga’s shoulder. Lugh placed his left hand on Ga’s opposite shoulder. The man began to tremble noticeably as his eyes rolled back in his head. Soon, the man began to scream.

After the Sergeant dragged the unconscious prisoner from the room. Ga turned to his companions. “If what this man knew is even close to accurate, it is time to summon some help immediately. Then we shall join Ulrich on Epsilon Level.

Conjuration of the sword.

‘Ifafi, Lugh,. I need your assistance here in an angelic ritual. Lock the door.”

Lugh locked the door, and they were directed to assume their places in the Great Triangle of Angelic Strength, which had been marked onto the floor with chalk. ‘Ifafi was on the left hand side of the triangle, Lugh was on the right hand side and Ga faced them at the apex of the triangle. Inside the triangle was a plinth supporting a large purple candle, which had been inscribed with various symbols from the Universal Language of Light and Latin words. The candle had been annointed with eucalyptus oil, and it burned a strong and steady flame.

Ga raised his sword above the flame from the purple candle in the center of the angelic triangle and began to recite in Latin the “Conjuration of the Sword” from the Grimorium Verum:

“Te Gladi, Vos Gladias, trea Nomine Sancto, Albrot, Abracadabra, Jehova elico. Estote meum castellumque praesidium contra omnium hostes, conspicuusque nonconspicuus, in quisque magiceum opum. Nomeno Sancto Saday, qui est in imperium magnum, et his alio nomine: Cados, Cados, Cados, Adonai, Elohi, Zena, Oth, Ochimanuel, primoque ultimo, Sapientia, Via, Vita, Virto, Principio, Oso, Otatie, Splendoro, Luce, Sol, Fono, Gloria, Mono, Porta, Vite, Lape, Scipio, Sacredo, Pravo, Messiah, Gladi in omnium meum negotia regnas et in illos res quem me resistunt, vincite. Amen.”

He then looked at ‘Ifafi and Lugh and asked them to chant the invocation together with him … in all thirty-three times. Lugh thought he would pass out by the time they reached the 29th invocation but a stern look from ‘Ifafi prompted him to snap out of his drowsiness. As they completed the thirty-third incantation Ga proceeded to consecrate his sword with the Power of Archangel Michael:

“Oh Holy One – Angelic Warrior of Warriors. I beseech Thee to lend me the power of Thy Holy Sword and the sharpness of Thy Mind in my battle with the Antikristus … herewith known as Niall. May the force of Holy Strength and the Light of Angelic Conviction be forged from Thy Sword unto mine. In the Name of the Almighty — the Name only recognizable in the scream of the infant at the moment of birth and the final gasp of the dying mortal at life’s transition – I stand before you O Archangel Michael and ask you to embody my consciousness, my Spirit, my Mind, my Body and my Sword for the next twenty-four hours. I am at your service O Lord. In the Name of the Almighty, and in the presence of my two angelic witnesses in this sacred Triangle, I tell you verily that: I AM MICHAEL … I AM … THE SWORD!”

And with that the flame in the purple candle was suddenly snuffed out but the room was all but consumed by Darkness. Ga had taken on the spiritual energy and visage of Archangel Michael and had begun to glow and vibrate with an amazing intensity, never before experienced by the angels conducting the ritual. Ga appeared to have grown to over two meters high in stature and his sword was ablaze with the power of Divine Light. Lugh’s mouth was hanging open in amazement, and ‘Ifafi just grinned from ear to ear while mumbling: “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!”

The sword was so powerful that Ga could barely hold it steady at first. It seemed to weigh 20 times what it normally did, and the slightest movement had enormous swing to it. They broke the triangle and ‘Ifafi and Lugh were sent to retrieve their own swords. When they returned minutes later they were challenged by Ga to a two-on-one practice duel. They were without a chance or a prayer … Ga’s new-found agility, strength and directness of mind could not be matched even by two against one.

“I think I am getting the hang of this now,” grinned Ga.

“Kewl!” exclaimed Lugh. “Could I try it?”

“Sure,” said Ga while winking at ‘Ifafi. They both knew that the only one that could manage the sword was Ga, as it was Ga that had conjured the force of the Sword of Michael into his sword and Ga that also had received the transference of Michael’s angelic warrior consciousness. Lugh could barely lift the sword above his head, and could not master the seemingly erratic energy of the sword at all. The sword actually threw him about from left to right until it finally literally flew out of Lugh’s hand and returned to the firm grasp of Ga, where it belonged for the next twenty-four hours.

Both ‘Ifafi and Ga had a good laugh, and Lugh looked sheepish and embarrassed at first but soon joined in on the laughter. And then while Ga went off to meditate, ‘Ifafi and Lugh practiced their fencing skills – each determined to show off his own sword mastery.

Ga returned shortly, refreshed, and summoned the Sergeant. “Sergeant, you will remain here, have your hazmat suits on if you or your men venture out into the main corridors, and have your breathing apparatus at the ready. This man we seek is capable of anything. I need three of your best men and best shots fully equipped to accompany us to Epsilon Level in ten minutes.