Hateth too much?

You only hate, I only know your side of hatred; do you even have love?!Can't you see that I express my love through my hatred; I hate that, than I love such, the opposite of, or a balance in between - of that which I hate.

Hate, this feeling beyond goodness, yes this feeling which we are supposed to discriminate against and to accept Love as the One and Only great-est virtue, of our age, of all times; since the collective interprets immediacy as everlasting and dominant throughout all centuries, as it was, is, and should have always been this way and shall be. Never!Understand do they not, the love for the selected few, to sacrifice through hatred. Through hatred, I tell you, is the best way to learn to love, to know the value of sacrifice; for have I not the will to spill my blood to have live the memory of a long forgotten age, she who awakens the call to war in the Rooster regardless of Sun to behold -- for my instinct beholds in all void and dark, perceiving through blind light as well that for which I would sacrifice and not share, those for who I would spill in plenitude and not receive but coldness nearing death.If not, then what value has my willingness to sacrifice; then what is left of Will at all but the will to be satisfied; woe! that I ever will be Deontevredene, the one who is Dissatisfied with all immediacy of institutionalized-understanding and instincts polluted with artificial-nature. That I ever be Dissatisfied with your civilization and progress and myths towards Utopias - of all kinds with all of mankind, away from the myths of the long forgotten ages, like a Cacus misleading, inverting the meaning of left-behind traces.

Herkules, manifested in spirit of the few, slaughter these Cacus-thieves who have inverted our pasts! Revenge upon the deceivers who have given us reason to strengthen, rage alike Achilles and take back what belongs through us, to us, from those who deserve by rights, who take for granted the eternal bliss of silence. Woe! Hear the silence of the Hyperborean Gods marching, you deaf ones, never wanting to listen to the return as it goes through eternity; the war drums in the silent nights approaching, each roaring thunder closer to your Fates, the roaring nights are silent indeed with your senses polluted in artificiality and comforting bliss. No comfort we find in the virtue of the loser, to let go the feeling of knowing the value for which we had fought in previous ages - only blood is what we have to return and to spill in plenitude, may yours be soaked on earth more so than ours, upon which we will be fruitful. May we conquer back value - value only known through sacrifice!

''But not my own non-being instils me with fear, but that of the beloved. [...] What they with a somewhat watered-down phrase call ''love'', is rather that the death of another touches me more than that of myself.'' ~Emmanuel Levinas

It touches me not, to lose my life - my legacy will be my return.Hear the Rooster calling to war those instinctually spoken to, regardless the dawn or the going down of the Sun. The Rooster on top of the churches crying for the defeat of all weakness-preserving institutions of Morality. Beyond time we have become. Fight dearly for all that is dear to you.

~Sjoerd Heeger