The Goddess of the Forgotten Paradise, a dream of hidden gods and secret places

Deep within the fathomless abyss of sleep, there is a dead city of perfect black onyx. A city long forgotten whose inhabitants have long since passed to dust, its broad avenues and cyclopean temples surrendered once again, to natures verdant embrace.

And at the centre of that vast city high atop the tallest hill, there is a walled paradise fallen into ruin. And within that paradise there is sacred garden temple. And although that temple is given now to decay of endless eons, a forgotten goddess stands there still.

The people who worshipped here were not created as we are, for there was no Adam and no Eve at their genesis. And no Lilith cruelly cast from Eden, and marked unjustly as a demon of darkness.

For where we are torn asunder and divided into two, they were born into perfection. Created entirely whole and made complete, each and every one of these ideal beings were carrier of seed and bearer of womb also.

And ever since I first discovered this goddess of the perfect, I have harboured both hope and desire. For I have delved deep into unholy libraries of forbidden lore and hidden arcana, and I have discovered the most wonderful secrets.

I have surmised that this dead city of perfect black onyx, is the fabled city of K’Hadath. A place of unspeakable antiquity which lies deep within that shadowed realm of dreams. A place which we of mortal mundane mind, might only catch a glimpse of while we sleep.

And further it is my sincerest heart’s desire and hope, that the deity within that forgotten paradise, is the sleeping goddess Al’Oana. For it is told within the pages of occult esoterica, that those who commune with this goddess of supreme love, might hope to be born anew.

That should she awake from her eternal sleep and bless you with her kiss, the devoted disciple might hope in turn to be made again in her image. Created whole and complete, just as those fabled perfect people of fallen K’Hadath were.

And so we come to offer worship at her graven image, deep within that forgotten fallen paradise. For I would be as a messiah for blessed Al’Oana, and I would bring her perfection back to life again once more.

And those artful sleepers and conscious lucid dreamers, that I have gathered all about me. I would have them be as my disciples, carriers of the holy word that paradise is born anew. Here in forgotten K’Hadath deep within the realm of sleep.

And so we gather to her side and sing the waking incantations, women all for only woman born might enter into this sanctuary.

For hour after hour while mere moments pass in the waking world, we sing the sacred waking benedictions. And the trance induced by the waking spells, beguiling us one and all deep into Al’Oana’s perfect love.

And gradually reality begins to warp and twist as the goddess awakes into the dreaming world. And that ruined paradise garden blooms into life and becomes again what it once was. The delightful natural temple springs into vibrant flowering glory. And the sanctuary becomes just as it was, when the perfect walked the fabled and forgotten city of K’Hadath.

And finally the walls of sleep fall entirely to our incantations, and we are carried far away into an elsewhere realm of majesty. A realm of ceaseless sacred bliss is the heaven of the goddess Al’Oana. A realm where mundane mortal souls might dwell, as in an ocean of unspoiled ecstasy.

And Al’Oana’s holy host are there in all their ethereal beauty, her blessed lovers innumerable created perfect and complete. And one by one they raise my followers from their knees, and they are bid to dwell awhile in Al’Oana’s sweet affection. To know blissful hospitality and pleasures of her sacred temple garden.

And soon the prayers and incantations of my disciples, become sighs of ecstasy and moans of bliss, as each and every one of them knows the kiss of angels.

And I can only stare in wide eyed amazement as the fantasy unfolds before me. And each as every one of my disciples, are cast adrift upon an ocean of wonders. As they know the love that can only be bestowed, by Al’Oana’s perfect chosen.

And then the perfect Goddess begins to materialize before me, shimmering as a mirage shimmers upon the horizon. But as she manifests completely, I see the truth of her perfect form.

For sacred Al’Oana is an entity whose beauty and ethereal luminosity, are beyond any parallel to be found in the mortal plane. Here is the radiance of a summers day sunrise over flowered plains, here is the glory of a granite grey storm filled sky, and here is the majesty of the tallest snow clad mountains.

Here is the creator and the mother of all perfection. Al’Oana the blessed, Al’Oana the sublime. And my entire being, heart, mind and soul sing in rapture, as she enfolds me in her embrace.

And for a fleeting eternity I luxuriate in that perfect beings unfathomable love. A love whose power and glory are as the pure radiance of the very sun itself.

For how long I lingered in the embrace of the goddess I cannot even guess. For as her perfection entered me, I fell headlong into a rapturous carnal trance of unspeakable fulfilment and rapturous joy.

A trance that beguiled and stupefied my senses. Such that I knew nothing other than the ocean of pleasure, which ebbed and flowed gorgeously and relentlessly back and forth inside me.

And so my heart and mind became as a universe of pleasure, and my body so relentlessly and thoroughly satisfied, that I fell at last into gorgeous oblivion.

And when at last we awoke, we acolytes of Al’Oana. We awoke as beings born anew in complete and whole perfection. And so we dwell even unto this day, in that fallen city of unspeakable antiquity.

Knowing that all the while in the waking world, our mortal bodies perish in want while still they sleep. But here we will evermore remain and breath life back into fallen K’Hadath, that city of perfect black onyx.

And we will see its streets alive once more with Al’Oana’s perfect chosen.


The End
Thank you for reading



More Queer Tales

Tarot of Terror, an account of supernatural seduction from the perspective of both demon and damned→

Performing Artist Seeks Audience, a werewolf horror story→




Comments are closed.

Create a website or blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: