Excerpt from Children of Falin
The Scriptures of Mater Fali, as translated by Tiana the Warrior-virgin and her self-sister, Paige Masterson.
To those who walk as aliens in a strange land;
to those who live in this world, yet are not of it—
I seek your love and your light,
you children of my hand.
I am your mother
the one from the womb.
I bring you to the world as a perfect gift
fit for violence and all the world—
and here, behold my holy sister
who is the speaker for my hand
and knows all my thoughts.
She guides you through the hand with hard fists
and blades of black hair.
Do not sway, for humanity knocks at Falin's Gate
we are the Holy Race, come to save all—
please do not give up on Me, my dear child;
without you, I am as the wind:
thoughtless, without purpose,
casting the seas up into the whitecaps
and drowning without a plea.
But my plea, please, stay with me;
I will give you the riches of my soul
For this is not beyond me.
But Thea is jealous,
and longs to take my soul.
She is indefeatable, will not sway,
She is the pillar of time against sands of chaos;
nothing will stop her Warrior.
Be sure, she will come,
wearing the color of blood and violence;
she will be the mother for all my future-kind:
Son, my one, born to me,
I see you in my mind.
Your hair is fire, skin is earth,
and brother falling from the sky.
You are my hope, my faith,
after you I will count all my days—
but until then, I am dead, and Thea reigns.
-Mater Fali's First Plea
To those who walk as aliens in a strange land;
to those who live in this world, yet are not of it—
I seek your love and your light
you children of my hand.
I seek your blood for cleansing,
Sister of my mind.
You, like the moon,
and stare up at me:
this is my plea, to be as me
and to return to the void from whence we came.
I sink into meditation, I see the future within
hidden in the seeds of humanity
and the lost race, soiled in its sin and greed—
our Anciency is lost; wisdom is dust,
but the seed within me sprouts:
Oh Gods! Oh Sister, save me,
you are the blood that covers the world,
the water of Life:
the living Will that makes all,
and breaks my limbs to make the four castes—
I am as one stretched upon parchment paper,
bones unbroken but stretched to splinter
and hair unshorn and developing the sea—
my womb is the holder for the world and you, oh my child
see to Thea, you who sees the Truth
see her authority as a falling star,
engulfing the worlds and converting all.
We are the one race, race, and she your Mater;
speak well, walk Her halls and you will see
the sin within her hair.
-Mater Fali's Second Plea
Vomit, Vomit, this thing that brings about
pure water in my soul.
Things dating from my womb
and spilling from the canal;
let it pour from my mouth
and fill the floor;
through it I will posess,
and my sister will know, yes—
she grips the horns and spills sinful blood
to make herself pure.
You will see her, hovering among you;
like royalty among barbarians. This piece,
this moiety that I share
expands to the air of Spirit,
bringing peace to meet the violence of birth;
through me, oh Mater's Vomit, reveal all!
-Prophecy regarding Vomit
Let my body stretch, let it drape as a cloth—
my left leg, let that be steeped in red,
and be bound up with the sin of insanity
so that the masterful arts of humanity may be protected:
you who wear my color, who inhabit the left leg
stave off your sin with work.
Madness hunts you like a beast!
Its fangs, subtle and gleaming.
Avoid luxery at all costs
and give up pride. Ego will destroy you
for you wear the color of a barbarian's blood:
Red, sign of passion and overflowing,
you will number as the stars and support them too,
for you are the fire in my bosom
that powers every great Thought.
-Creation of the Protectors
Let my body stretch, let it flow as water—
my right leg, let that mix in Purple,
and be encased in the sin of violence,
so that I may be protected.
Sisters, who wear the color
of old royalty, you are the knife
with which I cut sinful throat:
spill not white blood, but the red
and find passion in your hearts;
embrace the thrill! Embrace death
for you are the raging leaves
searching for a place to fall.
Let your hair turn to Purple—
color of blood yet unspilled,
and always carry a weapon at your side.
Should a beast of sin come knocking at my Gates,
you will answer: "Who is there!?"
She will say, "I am the voice from within
coming to seek your soul. Give yourself to me
you daughters of Fali—
I am the one like the sea
and flowing with sin. Give me your souls
you daughters of Fali—"
All of you will cut yourselves, all but one,
you with Purple.
Only one will be successful against the tyranny
and you will know her by her hair.
Purple: you who bind up
set your teeth against the barbarian within!
She will come knocking and you will answer
with a knife to the throat.
-Creation of the Warriors
Let my body fall, let it disappear—
my left hand, let it turn yellow
and be sickly with the sin of ignorance,
for I see the world, and wish not to know it.
You who have the sickly color,
you know every symbol within my heart.
Write them, as they are golden orbs;
pearls of wisdom I give you,
but they are soiled with sin.
So save yourself by working hard
and knowing every word that I say:
they lay upon the tips of my tongue
and will flow to you as the universe flows
through my enlightened spirit.
There is nothing beyond you,
you who know these words—
you wish to not know, but instead
I damn you forever
to know all,
so you may never be barbaric.
-Creation of the Scribes
Let my body condense, let it solidify in stone—
and my right right hand, dress in Blue,
show the back hand of arrogance,
so that they may think me powerful.
You daughters, I dress you with Blue
and make you the governors of everything.
You know nothing, but understand all
all but the Sister of Black, who controls you;
it is She you speak to,
and forever subordinate.
This is how you will stave off sin,
by the virtue of loyalty.
Never waver, never misinterpret my words
which I give you the keys to unlock;
never soil my thoughts,
for then I will despise you as I despise the barbarians
and my very own family.
Dress yourself in luxery so that others will know your place
but you yourself will never know:
you understand all, but in arrogance colored black-and-blue,
you decieve all.
-Creation of the Keepers
Let my body soak, let it drip with oil—
my Head, it is dipped in blackness;
and remember the power of Matersex,
so that I may rule over everything else.
You who know the sin of lewdness,
you are the most disgusting.
You reach down and touch yourself
because the longing inside is far too great—
only I understand it. I see the orgies
hidden in your mind.
You know of which I speak, for full-grown,
I know all.
I am inescapable, and the children I birth
gradually come to me;
their body is a temple of my spirit.
Therefore, those who have the skin of purity,
but hair of deep black,
lock yourself up into towers
to never see the light of day.
Dress yourself tightly,
cover the fingers that tempt!
Let cold metal touch your crevasse
so that you never know the pain of birth.
You are free of the ancient curse, but not free of the sin
that haunts your soul.
Stay pure until I return
or else I will dissolve your whole being
and feed you to the monsters in the sea.
-Creation of the Virgins
My body, my great and beautiful body
divided between four or five parts:
only one part is wrong.
There is One who knows all
for she stole my knowledge.
Tonight, she will drown me in oil
for I saw her plans
and read her lips.
The thought of murder
was in the eyes of my sister.
So I looked up to the sky
and it turned to water.
I begged her to stop,
but her hands clenched tight.
I knew her, for she was of my own kind
and wished to be part of my plan.
And while I would be her equal,
she would rather be Ruler.
She would be queen, that one with sin,
the one who knows all,
but understands little;
She sets herself against my Gates.
She is the beast that flies silent
but comes up to ambush you.
Only the Warrior-with-black
who knows me best
can set against her
and destroy the unholy sister.
Meanwhile, I will hide in ice
at the top of the world
and forget all that I have seen.
But on seeing the pure-sister's face
I will awaken from deep slumber
as a child does to the morn;
come to me, oh sister,
and save me from
the sinful murderer!
-Fali's Prophecy Regarding Those with Sin
Set my thoughts in stone,
those who wear yellow—
you will inscribe my heart with lasers
and burn rock with image.
In there, my thoughts and memories hide.
Copy every color you see,
leave nothing out.
Lock it and do not read,
for you will think you know all
and be slave to your sin
of ignorance.
-Directions to Scribes
Read my thoughts in stone,
those who wear blue—
you will know my yellow daughters well,
for they are sick with memory.
They will transcribe for you,
but I charge you to read what they write
and know what is inscribed within the stone.
In the pictures I provide lies all Truth
but soiled by my sinful sister,
she knows all and understands nothing.
So hide it from anyone with black
burning like fire from their skin.
The one who knows all will interpret
and whisper to your hearts the meaning:
you with Blue, you are the Keepers
of all my knowledge.
Within you, I exist in memory
and by my heart I charge you
lay the grounds of Truth with rules
and harsh punishment.
For at the door knocks nihilism
and all things greedy.
-Directions to Keepers
You children with Purple roots
and dreams of violence,
set yourself hard with long teeth,
and always a weapon at your side.
For some will not recognize you,
and will threaten your life.
So carry a weapon, in remembrance of my death
so you will not drown in sin.
Embrace the thing you hate,
and you will become like it.
Love the thing that destroys
and you will be the destroyer.
Know the enemy to kill it,
for you already damned yourself
the second you spilled blood.
-Directions to Warriors.
I followed my son out to the desert,
the one whose hair is like fire
and carries the blood of humanity.
I longed for him and saw his soul
deep in the seed of my Mater.
I followed for I knew
he was the Savior of all my daughters.
But my white hair burned
and the high sun beat down.
There no plants grew, and I knew I could not follow.
So I sacrificed myself,
for the son lost his mother
and instead gained a Father-Sister.
Let me follow you, for you are
the progeny of my love.
I will remember you until my final days
when I will pass into oblivion.
Now I know the sacred words, and this I will speak
my sister, the Warrior-with-black,
she saved me from complete desolation.
She came to me as myself
back centuries ago.
Oh, touch my face, sister-killing-sin
and I will be whole again,
for you are impervious to the sun
and know my Son
as well as I do.
-Prophecy Regarding the Son and Desert
Let me tell you where the sinners go
all my little sisters:
you with the black tattoos,
colored the same as my hair,
I will show you the trash heap.
You came from the purity of the womb
but now I stand as your judge.
My crown of blades, I am the shrike-bird,
the being coming to destroy;
lay waste and have your souls.
I am the dark side of your loving Mater,
I am the Mater seeking revenge,
for outstepping their caste.
Why am I so angry? Fire burns inside;
I don't know why.
I am mindless,
an ancient and primal thing,
born from volcanoes and a sea filled with gryphons.
Barbarians, my father,
dating from millenia.
I am timeless, but fading now.
I rule over you, I want your cooperation.
Give me your money, give me your skills
because I'm a jealous god.
Mater Fali, Mater from Heaven,
you're dead because I live.
I come from the trash heap.
I come with the triple-bladed weapon—
sin, to make you cry.
Sin, to make you work.
Sin, to make you guilty.
Oh sin, you are my great tool,
and with you I keep Fali in check.
I will put all you sinners with the barbarians;
two people go to the trash heap:
barbarians and sinners.
One and the same,
but one is white and one is not.
Stave off your sin, submit to me
and maybe I will forgive
for I am a jealous god.
But still and even then
I will have some revenge.
My Sister, oh, she is beautiful!
My father loved her more than me.
He adorned her with precious jewels, not me.
He gave her the inheritance, not me.
He gave her all the help in the world, but nothing to me
and I am a jealous god.
So let my Sister make her race,
but I will have my revenge.
I will have my revenge on all her children
by marking them with my color—
blackness, blackness scars your skin.
It is the sign of the wrinkled fruit,
the sign of the damned,
who forgot my presence
and were too weak to resist.
I overpower them, burn incense,
recite some words,
and remembering my Sister's dead body
throw them to the trash heap.
-Mater Thea's Punishment
With my own hands
I created the purest race
my mind could imagine.
The ones who would contemplate the future
and store up the wisdom of humanity for Eschaton.
But all around me was despair
and so I exiled myself to space.
I searched the stars for a new home;
a place set apart, a place God called me to
and there a spent a thousand days and nights.
I watched the sun fall,
I watched the twin-moons rise.
The tide came in,
the waves fell away.
Rocks crumbled beneath my feet,
and the sky engulfed my spirit.
With the gifts of my father's mind,
I saw the imperfection in myself.
I went about and forged myself
in the smithy of a planet.
And from whence
springs a whole race
I can call my own.
They are my daughters, Children of Falin,
white as the stars,
pure as my longing,
and a race to contemplate
the end of the universe.
They are the water I drink,
they are the peace I seek.
I make for them a spacious womb
and place my longing in them.
They are polluted by my sister
the one of Earth and oil-slicked fist.
She vomits sin and speaks treachery
while I contemplate the depths of the universe.
In her is my darkness hidden
for I know she is my kin.
I betrayed her
and bring punishment upon myself.
But the Children save me
for I know they are innocent
and that they will speak truth
as a clear gong through fogs of lies
and incense and history.
Her teeth are made of words,
her mind made of lewdness.
She is like the gryphon in the sea
that reaches up to grab whatever it can find.
But those seas are mine.
This planet was the home I made,
the cradle of life I set here.
Cathedrals I built at the ends of Falin
and set them to work to build the bodies.
I met the first kind who were my own:
one Red, one Blue, one Yellow, one Purple,
and told them about sin.
I told them to save me,
for I was their mother—
for there, on the horizon came a black one
who wished to corrupt their souls.
And I knew she would kill them too.
So I allowed this trade:
I will go in their place,
the precious jewels who were the desires
of my Sister's revenge.
I soiled truth, I wept at the words,
and was laid to rest in the sea
at the hands of their jealous god.
I was pulled asunder by Her greed,
Her longing, Her jealousy;
if I fled, I know
my daughters would drown.
So instead, I sold them into Her servitude
but with the hope that there might be one
who could save them
as I passed into eternity.
-The Death of Mater Fali
Today I taught my daughters
their first arts.
I spoke to the Warrior
and revealed to her my training.
I showed her the way to kill,
and there, the way to give life.
She knew, and understood.
Her mind contemplated
the womb from whence she came
and recognized my face.
I told her, should there be a war,
she would graceful as a butterfly
and powerful as a storm.
She would be the arbiter of conflict,
and know everything needed
to keep her sisters safe
from terrible intruders.
I will pass into eternity soon,
but this will be my pleasure:
knowing my daughters
in sleeping memory.
Today I taught my daughters
their first arts.
I spoke to the Protector
who held the old images of man
in the centers of her hands.
I showed her the essence of color,
the way to build things.
She knew them immedietely
and sculpted my face.
She understood the mission
of preservation she took;
her burden, to never engage
in madness and forget
the wisdom hidden in beauty
and the unsoiled aesthetic
in all of God's creation.
I will pass into eternity soon,
but this will be my pleasure:
knowing my daughters
in sleeping memory.
Today I taught my daughters
their first arts.
I spoke to the Keeper
and showed her the lay of the land.
She understood the way to keep,
and to also let things go
their own way.
I taught her how to read
and she buried the images
deep in her heart.
Her mind was free
and her interpretation true.
There was nothing I could see about her terrible,
but that she risked arrogance.
I told her to set her heart against it,
and I held fast in her
knowing that she could rule over
her sisters justly and fair.
I will pass into eternity soon,
but this will be my pleasure:
knowing my daughters
in sleeping memory.
Today I taught my daughters
their first arts.
I spoke to the Scribe
and asked her to recognize the symbols.
She knew everything she wrote
and made images beautifully.
She transcribed my words
and I told her to hide it away
to be found by a strange Warrior
seeking truth.
She did not understand, but I knew,
for I had seen in my mind
one who could save them all.
A son of Falin
falling from the clouds and riding the sea.
He took up my soul and my vision
and saw how he would come
before a final reckoning.
And his Father-Sister
a child of mine,
come to seek truth,
and know the true words,
this Scribe wrote.
But the Scribe worked well
and she avoided ignorance.
She studied and wrote
and I knew she would do so
all the days of her life.
I will pass into eternity soon,
but this will be my pleasure:
knowing my daughters
in sleeping memory.
For while I die now,
my body lies in rest
far from the black one's grasp
at the highest point of my planet
across the fields of its star
when its sides are nearly equal.
There I lay my future seed to rest
to contemplate my journey
in silent dream
and reawaken
to a semi-vision of myself
that will cause me to remember
all the days of my life,
though I will still be as if a child.
-Mater Fali Teaches the First Daughters
