Sunday, 22 September 2019

The Majors Tom : Ad Astra

We're a Generation of Men Raised by Women –
Roy McBride
"King Son-of-The-Bride"

"I knew what I was doing would Widow Your Mother and make an Orphan out of You."

Hiram Abiff was busy working his Craft, when he suddenly found himself transported into the center of the Earth by Tubal-Cain, there to taste of the Tree of Knowledge. . .

Who was the original 'Widow's Son'? 
That all depends on who you ask. 

This documentary explores a particular thread of Masonic history, namely the origin of the third degree, and the 'lineage' of the Craft. Sourced from some of the earliest manuscripts, and exploring certain facts not often brought to light, we shall see why the Mark of Tubal-Cain is an indelible stamp of heritage to the thoughtful Mason.

You do not yet realise your importance.
You have only begun to discover your power.
Join me... and I will complete your training.
With our combined strength, We can end this destructive conflict —
and Bring Order to The Galaxy.
You can destroy The Emperor.
He has Foreseen This.

It is Your Destiny.
Join me ... and Together 
We can Rule The Galaxy as Father and Son.

Come with Me.
It is The Only Way.

I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add colours to the chameleon,
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages,
And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.

Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell

Burthen Ding-dong

Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.

The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

Like a SpaceMonkey Ready to be Shot into Space — 
Ready to be Sacrificed for The Greater Good.

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