How many times have the spheres of the sun and the moon risen from the ocean to illuminate the earth, to enliven the vast forests, to brighten the mountain tops?
How many times have the eyes opened, dazzled, amazed... Ignorant before the stars?
How long have you been gone?
This letter is for the royal blood, golden river hostage of tired hearts.
Do you remember the land of the lily and the rose, the city of Love and its palace of countless columns? Do you remember the light perfume of the dawn, the invincible brightness of the dawning day?
I have for you the memory of a kingdom where the Spirit is king. It reigns effortlessly as a flame spreads its light through space. Its power is infinite, so much so that it is useless to abuse it. Intelligence, strength and beauty are the primordial elements of the First Kingdom, the pillars of Original Power.
But what are memories?
This letter is for the royal blood, a river of gold that our softened hearts darken.
I have for you a graphological mirror in which, armed with courage, lost princes and courtly ladies contemplate their reflection. This mirror is true, and at first sight, it appears only a shapeless mass of proletarians, of the powerless, crippled by life, limping proudly before others, or following humbly, if not sleepily. Suffering reigns everywhere, the faithful shadow of ignorance. And in this crowd, the softened hearts are still beating, the soul is restless, without reference, in search of the Spouse, the King and his infinite power, to shine again and to extract itself from this grey pavement where it flits about, wandering and fugitive, like a plastic bag twirling in the swirls of dead leaves, swollen by the gusts of autumn.
How many times have we stumbled through these streets, dreaming of the luxurious gardens hidden by the marble facades, where boredom is different?
This letter is for the royal blood, the river of gold that lies dormant in our discerning hearts!
Personally, I have nothing left for you, for alone I am powerless. When the mirrors are everywhere, we know ourselves as beggars, heavenly tramps who have found shelter for a lifetime on earth. But the soul does not leave us in peace. It wakes us up in the night. It wants its crown of stars, its heavenly robe, its eternal diamonds... Not tomorrow! Not tomorrow! Right now!
Then, powerless mortal man, you are overwhelmed: the Earth, the oceans, the wolves, the seals, the bees, the culture, your children... everything dies! "It's your fault! Do something about it! Responsible greenwasher of the cities!", declare the dark brothers who crush you with their legally conquered power by throwing gasoline on the burning house. And the soul that cries out, torments you and demands its diamonds and the meaning of your life. But what can you, the powerless, do? With what strength, what energy can you meet the challenge?
This letter is for the royal blood, the river of gold that propels liberated hearts!
The world is only magical forces, power applied by intelligences, organisms in motion. There is a way to regain one's nobility as a Prince or Lady of Heart and Spirit, to rise. Edward Bulwer-Lytton has described in The Coming Race  the legend of the Vrilya, the subterranean people who have an unlimited power: the Vril.
Madame Blavatsky talks about it in her Secret Doctrine. 
Max Heindel devoted his book The Coming Force: Vril or what? 
Rudolf Steiner prophesied that in the future, communities would escape the hell of materialistic society thanks to a mysterious force.  He also said that man and woman must work together spiritually to tame the force that animates the plant kingdom, the ether, the Vril.  All agree that this new humanity to come of Bulwer-Lytton (which has nothing to do with any racial distinctions) gives a fair idea of that force which is everywhere but which our weak mortal bodies cannot fully assimilate.
This is why, in order to regain the power, the strength, the science of regeneration is taught. The starting point of this science is that the mortal personality and its physical body harbour a special, immortal atom, the remnant of a fallen god, asleep in the heart of man. If there is a royal element on earth, it is this particle of the Spirit realm. When human consciousness awakens to the suffering, the precariousness and the "weirdness" of existence, it is because the atom is heard in the rapid streams of blood. The practice of this science of the Spirit requires "self-knowledge", insofar as one observes at every moment the absurdities, paradoxes, and limits, as seemingly ineffaceable folds of our personality. In this way, we only see our inability to make ourselves worthy of power. Therein lies the salvation, for this royal atom becomes "radioactive" as the illusion of being chosen for anything other than becoming aware of the part of the Kingdom that is within us and that must be restored. By abandoning our dreams of ephemeral glory that weigh down the heart, the atom releases its force and gradually transforms our organism. It turns the red and viscous paste of ordinary blood, laden with the iron of the egocentric will, into a living river of gold that abolishes gravity.
The time is near friend, beloved! The time is ripe for nuclear science. It is urgent to consider the destiny of the King who slumbers in each one, a celestial embryo coiled in the heart of humanity. The pursuit of electricity for commercial purposes and material comfort was rejected by ancient societies, which were guided by a wisdom that was aware of the havoc that such use of electromagnetic fire would cause. This is an age of freedom and therefore of the responsibility to use one's own physical and psychic powers. Alone, one wanders, like a lost, sterile atom... One ends up doing anything! If one gathers with the aim of making a correct use of the force which is given to us, of "seeking the truth", the atoms rub each other, but if the intention is sufficiently right, powerful and maintained, then a form of radioactivity appears. The atom we carry resonates with those of our companions and we can rightly speak of "communion". It is a process which is not extraordinary in appearance, which does not make the group of researchers more brilliant in the eyes of the world... on the contrary, such a group can, according to the elders, become "invisible to the powers that reign here below". Only in this way will the Princes in Exile and the Ladies of Heart and Spirit succeed in pushing aside the earthly pull, rising to the original Kingdom from which the 'spark-atom of Spirit', as Jan van Rijckenborgh puts it, originates. If existence is a place of extreme compression for the soul, it is necessary to come together to become, together, 'an atomic bomb of the Spirit', to literally pulverise the boundary that keeps us trapped and powerless. The force thus released is Love, but this love is beyond our own sentimentality. It is the creative and destructive force of the God who lives within us, it is the Vril! No mortal in the universe has the right to benefit from it unless he has merged with the consciousness that inhabits the spark-atom of Spirit.
To do this, we must come together, become radioactive through mutual service, benevolence and shared knowledge. And then... empty the sinister memory, become fresh as a child, amazed at the stars, admit ignorance to free the throne of the Otherworldly King who is waiting to take over the power deep within us.
But all this... these are stories! I leave the bibliography to you anyway... greenwasherss of the cities!
This letter is for the royal blood, the golden river that gathers us like a new sun!
Take care !
 Edward Bulwer-Lytton, The coming race, 1871.
 Helena Blavatsky, The secret doctrine, vol. 2.
 Max Heindel, The coming force, Vril or what? Literary Licensing, LLC, 2014.
 Rudolf Steiner, The development of humanity.
 Rudolf Steiner, The legend of the temple and the essence of freemasonry.