This cartouche is an artifact dating to the 14th century BC. 1,000 years before the Old Testament. “To give, Those that travel on foot, YHW3[W]” Cartouche is French. The ancient Egyptians called it ‘rn’ meaning ‘name’. It was a name of a high official or, most likely, a Priest.

Those who still bow to the letter while the heavens themselves preach the allegory! Revelation 11:8 does not babble of three separate places of vice; it welds Sodom, Gomorrah, and Egypt into one great city, one spiritual place for the underworld, the dark half of the solar year. When the Sun slips beneath the autumnal equinox it enters its cosmic detriment, bondage, submersion, and spiritual decay. Gomorrah, Amorah, is the drowning, the overwhelming by the primordial waters; Sodom, Sedom, is the scorching, the sulfurous choke of dead cold. The luminary that was exalted in Aries is weighed in the scales of Libra, found wanting, and cast into the Water and Earth quarters, stripped of power, trapped beneath the horizon in the material abyss. The twin plates of that balance hanging at the gate of the underworld! The Great City is not a map of Palestine or the Nile, it is the realm of pure materialism where the divine spark is buried, blinded, and bound through the winter months. Fire and brimstone mark the dive from Libra into Scorpio and Sagittarius, the very transition the priests have turned into a moral scarecrow while they hide the astronomy. Egypt is the narrow strait, the containment. The Cities of the Plain are the drowning and the burning. Together they named the Abyss, Hades, the realm of Spiritual Death. Both Moses and Jesus must be called out of Egypt before their work can begin. The resurrection is not a corpse walking out of a cave for the comfort of literalists, it's the vernal equinox, breaking of bonds, the return from detriment to exaltation. The Clergy who deny the cosmic scripture preach a fable and call it faith. The heavens have already spoken. The people of truth have only repeated them.

Look not for a wandering Jew by Jacob’s well, but for the Sun himself at the horizon, where Virgo the Virgin stands with #Libra the Balance! There, the woman of Sa-Maria, that is Mary and the emblem of the Egyptian sailors, she draws from the well that is not a well on earth but the very sign of the Scales. Five husbands she had, granted after she prayed in the unison of five, the five points of the celestial figure, the five months of her longing till the Sun should meet her. And what saith this Jesus? “I will give thee living water.” Not the dead puddle of priestcraft, but the waters that flow from under the ecliptic! He is the Sun, offering redemption as he rises, acceptance as he crosses the line of the Balance, spiritual nourishment as he pours his rays upon the thirsty earth. The woman of Virgo drinks and is no more barren; the well of Libra is filled; the horizon blazes. The gospel is written in the heavens, and only fools read it as history. Amun, and a fig for the bishops!

The Word itself cries out: “I am a worm, and no man!” Not the common maggot, rimmah, but tolaʿat. The name of the scarlet worm, the tolaʿat shani that dyed the Tabernacle curtains and the high priest’s robes. Now, the Kermes! That little scale insect clings to the oak, fastens herself to the wood, lays down her life so her young may live, and in dying pours the crimson stain. Welded to the tree, her blood becomes the dye of atonement. Archaeology even found a three thousand eight hundred years, the same scarlet insect dye, on a desert cloth. And look to the Torah’s very heart! The scribes counted every letter, three hundred four thousand eight hundred and five, and they marked the center with an oversized vav in gachon, “belly,” the word of the crawling thing. That vav is the nail, the hook, the peg driven through the middle, as the spear thrust at the center of the crucified body. Aleph to Tav! First to last, Alpha and Omega. Insert the nail—vav—and you have ot, Sign/Star. The First and the Last joined by the Nail for completion. The worm on the wood, the nail in the center of the Law, the Sign that spans beginning and end, every letter, every creature, every drop of scarlet points to the same wounded Heart.

Those who still creep to pulpits for your daily crumb! The priest have sold you a village in the dust of the Earth, and called it holy. Bethlehem, Beth- Lechem House of Bread, Virgo standing in the heavens with the Golden Ear. That ear is Spica. That ear is the bread of the world. Look up, not down! Spica is Eden, the abode of life, the garden that never needed a flaming sword because it never left the sky. The Akkadian scribes named it Emuku Tin-tir-Ki, “The Might of the Abode of Life,” and Tin-tir is Babylon, the Seat of Life, before any scribe ever wrote “Babel” as a curse. Babylon in The Good Book isn’t a brick pile by the Euphrates; it is this same virgin house of wheat, the celestial granary from which every later “house of bread” was stolen. The priests hid the ear of corn behind a manger. They turned the Abode of Life into a tax town and the mighty seat into a whore they could stone on paper. Tear the veil! The only Bethlehem that ever fed the nations hangs tonight in Virgo’s fist. The wheat star is in heaven while you keep chewing the wafer they baked from your ignorance. The heavens still speak. The priests still lie.

From the dawn of civilization the heavens have been the only true scripture, and every mythology that ever crawled upon the earth is the priestly theft of those starry letters. Enki stands as MUL.GU.LA, “The Great One”-Aquarius pouring his waters from the sky; Gula the healer rides the Goat that we call -Lyra; The Sebettu, blaze as MUL.MUL, -the Pleiades; Pabilsag strides as -Sagittarius; Shala furrows -Virgo; Ningishzida coils through -Hydra; Dumuzi the Hired Man treads -Aries. Ninurta himself is the Constant Star, bibbu kayamānu, Kayamānu, Kewan -Saturn, whose scythe never rusts. MUL marks the object in heaven; the god is merely the name men gave the object. There is no mystery left once the veil of priestcraft is torn away. Look at the Akkadian cylinder VA/243, created four thousand three hundred years before our vulgar era. Its inscription names only officials, yet its symbols scream the truth: the star of Ninurta, whom the Hebrew Bible itself still whispers as Sakkuth and Kewan, sits as the symbol at the top of the seal, with Saturn’s own scythe in front of the seated god. This is a Saturnian seal, nothing less. The same Ninurta whose star Amos still names in his fifth chapter. And what did the kings of those days do? They kept the Sabbatu on the seventh, fourteenth, twenty-first and twenty-eighth days of the lunar month: they would not ride in a chariot, they would not eat cooked or luxury meat, they would not change their clothes, they would not exercise royal speech nor approach the altar. The MUL.APIN catalogue and the DINGIR determinative that prefixes every god-name are one and the same confession: the gods are stars, the stars are gods, and every later gospel and testament are only a later theft of the same celestial ledger. The heavens declared the glory long before any synagogue or church was built to hide it. Let the priests rage; the sky still speaks. Follow the mythologies of the year in the Heavenly cycle, or build synagogues and churches on the ground.

The visible heavens, the only scriptures the priests have not interpolated. The Sun, the ever living God, is in the 15° of the tabernacle of Virgo, Bethulah, בּתוּלה. This Hebrew name is not a fleshly maiden of Nazar-eth, (The Branch in Hand) but a celestial hieroglyph of the ancient astro-theology. Virgo Paritura, the fire virgin of the Zodiac, whose form is made from the bright stars. She is the Virgin that shall bring forth, not by the manner of women, but because it is physically the season when the Sun in her house ripens the harvest. Spica, the ear of wheat in her other hand, proclaims it. Her purity is the purity of the starry fires, her fruitfulness is the bounty of August. The priests turned this picture in words into a biography, so they could rob men of their senses. I have swept the stable of that superstition. Worship not the name, but the Sun in the tabernacle of Bethulah.