today's musings

The gates to the soul are closely guarded
Hypothetically hidden within.
Yet, how do we unlock a gate with no door?

That is the mystery that has been plaguing us down the years:
Sages stumped by sequestered consciousness.
I have gone deep within
Dived to the bottom and back.
Yet, I have not found what I seek.
I have delved through ponderous tomes
The secret just dancing at the edge of my ears.
Hidden melodies plucking at my heartstrings.
Angelic musings coupled with demonic frenzy.
I pray and plead to every God/dess imaginable.
Show me the way!

I’m a poor wayfaring stranger lost in strange lands.
Washed up on flotsam and jetsam on golden sands.
Judge me not till you’ve walked the paths I’ve trod.
Preach to someone else about your views of God.
Daydreaming darkly and nightmarishly light,
Fevers rage and burn beneath the calm at night.

There must be an answer to this quest.
Tell me it was not all in vain.
Give meaning and purpose to my pain.
I’ve demurely gone along
And fought like hell, tooth and nail.
It seems that neither works at all
Humans, I just can’t tell.
What is required of me

What do you need?

What words must I say
What quiet must I breed?

What will make you happy?
What will calm the storm?

What will bring lasting peace?

What will soothe the soul forlorn?

Barely balmed by Borealic beauty.
The way my mind dances madly whirling
Jumping and twirling
Dervishly unfurling
Grasping gangly towards the heavens
Digging dementedly towards the hidden Earth.
Bucolic dancing taratellically beneath the moon.
At once an answer thunders from on high loud as tumbling downwards flower petals.

This is the dance in this moment, and there are myriads of truths
Reflected in the blackness of the vast night sky.
Seek no more and be the vessel to receive divine insight.
This is thy right oh child of man and the stars.

Letter of resignation

It is with sad and heavy heart that I hand this in.
Matters have indeed spun far out of control past my wildest dreams.
I cannot say that I am happy at this turn of events,
Nor can I yet say that I am sad.
It is time that our collaboration come to an end.
In these last years I have watched the vitriol and venom spewed snaking through the media.
I have seen seductive slander slyly slanted to be some sort of praise. 
Some time ago your departed from my ways,
I would be lying if I said I had not grown tired of these childish antics.
The infuriating rubber stamping of your prejudice and small-mindedness from my desk in my absence has left me with no other choice.
It is time for me to clean house from top to bottom starting with you my petulant children.
I will not be picking up your option at this time.
If you wish to appeal this decision, you may write to the respective parties that actually give a fuck.

Sincerely yours,
God

Scales lifted

At last the scales are lifted from the ear drums of my soul,
How wrong could I have been in all my suppositions.
Dancing always in the corner of my eye was the obvious answer.
I'll paint and dream you, I'll call you with sweet melodious siren chanting.
No longer need we wander two lonely pilgrims
Outcast as we were from our father's glistening heaven.
Let the sweet perfume of these lips ease that suffering.
Let this soft touch quell the nightmarish rage within.
I won't ask you to always ride that royal charger.
No, you too must be carried from time to time.
Those dagger irises beckon me on with the clamor of a challenge.
I never was one to hesitate to climb the peak before me.
Beckoning onwards brave knight if you dare.
Dragon ire can't compare to those glowering brows furrowed in contempt.
I know too well the look mirrored back at me on that handsome face:
It is the torture of slow, monotonous ennui.
Those eyes bear the heaviness of a million little compromises.
Each time a little bit of self sold for a mess of pottage.
Let me reawaken the dormant fires in your heart's furnace.
Let me reignite the tiny coal of passion burning yet within.
I promise that this journey into the ethereal planes will delight,
Come with me and let's ride free and unstoppable as a gamma burst
Out and out till we reach the edge of what is.
Then let us ride beyond into the darkness and see what we may see.
They say it is only in the darkness that light is born.
Let me be your champion and you mine,
Let me stand and be held at once.
Let these hands hold and be held.
Receive and give my lover, and let us see what may be.
I promise you a future of starsong and Magick,
Dances naked amid the flames under swirling nebulas.
I will show you the sacred groves of ancient sentinels.
We will wander lone but not lonely through the clouds.
Let me kiss those honeyed lips and feel the strength hold me.
Let me most of all, let me.

I awoke today maddeningly close to an insight.
If I knew what it was, I'd just tell you. 
That's the thing... It feels familiar in some way.
Perhaps this flash of light will end world hunger or bring enlightenment to all.
Dreams are often these elusive hints at the vastness.
Outside of the little box called me, a universe of possibilities exists.
Possibilities of hope and despair, love and hate.
The trigger of a world war to end all of the human race,
Yet the balm of peace to forever end all conflict.
There is something terrifying about gazing over the edge of that abyss.
It is to witness one's undoing and finding one's wholeness.
Have pity on the shadow walkers that sleep through life and dreams the same.
Pity the game of the child people as they dart madly about in meaningless circles.
Pity yourself as you are one of them.
Language cannot convey the angst of knowing one's own insanity.
Sounds are not adequate for such inexorable despair.
Yet, knowing is half the battle and the war is not yet lost.
Pettiness is always lurking right behind magnanimous beatitudes. 
Clutching jealousy and envy beyond a congratulatory concession of defeat.
Vulcan's rage amidst a sincere smile that says I'm fine, thanks for asking.
Perhaps the one universal constant is our fundamental lack of consistency.
Knowing we are all slaves to neurotic neural hard-wiring,
Doomed to descend into the insanity of fight and flight.
May I have compassion and commiseration the next time I witness a fellow ranter and raver.
Let me see myself in the ramblings of the lunatic,
But most of all let the mirror of them show me me in all of my glory and debauchery.
Never let me forget that I too am frail and fraught with failing. 

Wisdom walks amongst the cottonwoods today
I feel the presence of ancient.
From where do you come asks the wind to no one in particular?
From where do I hail?
I want to scream out: "I need more to go on than that."
What a loaded question indeed. 
I could pontificate on the ancient starseeds that gave life to this fragile form
Or would you rather me bore you with the heavy Tome that some call my life story?
I can't tell you where in all truth.
Are we talking about meat suits or immortal souls?
Wait, is there even a soul animating this form?
Some would say it's just a clockwork Darwinian accident born of a frame shift mutational leap.
Am I just here or am I also there?
What is this I of which I speak?
How does it speak of itself at all?
All of this churns and cascades through the lens of tiny hamster wheels grinding away.
Happenstance or grand design?
Designed then by whom or what?
Where is this designer?
Chaos that arranges itself with such ordered abandon?
I think not, I think designer and design are false and true in the same currency.
But see that inescapable I emerges, and what is I?
Where is this I located betwixt these shadowed eyes?
Questions swirl through the maelstrom of quixotic pondering.
Ah, I am from where I am from.
Perhaps I is from where I is from?
Ovarian mother united with the one in a million Y man.
Erupting into cosmic bliss in a moment of immaculate conception.
Ah, I am from the divine feminine and yet also the divine masculine.
I am the union of the lion and the lamb leaving to imagination which is witch.
Tired I grow of these paradoxical musings, so goodday busy world.
Buzz about like the drones you are immune to any thought as to why, how, where, or what.
Ignorance is not bliss, it is blindness.
So blind men will lead blind so they say.
Down the path of sweet, naive destruction.
Death by slow ennui and repressed dissatisfaction.

Stars burning and plummeting through the ions dancing amid neurotic networks,
In an instant the constants of the universe are fundamentally altered.
Gravity is now 3 and the speed of light is 18 miles per century.
Paralyzed in the understatement of my dilemma.
Solemnity rings outward in silent outcry.
Solidarity and solidity sacrificed on the shifting fortunes.
Life me up above the swirling cascading crashes of my mental hubris.
Give me the eagles perspective to the maze of my identity.
Can you separate me to see sanely and searingly into the seers' smokes?
Shadows and phantasms play wickedly across the cave of my projections.
Chance encounters of darkest dread and strangest longing.
Say true the word of creation, the word of undoing.
Give omega to the alpha of my paranoid projecting.
Rid the rancor of my rigid righteousness.
Piece together the duality of this despicable puzzle.
Sages saints are said to be speechless on this momentous of all days.
Birthday of the solution-less problem.
Perhaps the problemless solution.
Oh vain conjecture and vile flight of fancy.
Flicker off to float above some other feral dreamer.
Us shadow walkers know full well the sanctimoniousness of stalwart steadfasts.
We who bid the realms with the power of word and potentiality.
Say if you will sir of this, yet empty embers emitted earlier in the aeon scream otherwise.
Gone is the greyness and all the gerrymandering gall it gave gladly.
Plaited tresses of honey can't lure this queen from her hive.
Sit and wait like the centuries as all crumbles to dust and drowsiness.
Walk no more far-strider and instead plunge into the lukewarm pools of indifference.

Synaptic threads interweave tearing apart at escape speed velocities,
I cannot bear to see this masterpiece unraveled.
Have you ever made something then dashed it apart?
It's the horror only the creator of a monster could know.
We who strive day by day below.
The disintegration of that which is one can be so numbing
Should we just throw in the towel and call it a day?
Yet mythical phoenix is not a tale told emptily by hopeless Romantics,
See where the shreds fall into a new pattern?
The discerning eye may alight upon some chance new fragment.
This paradoxical respelling of the universal language happens cyclically
Aeons and Aeons pass as the stories are retold and the characters recast.
Is it true what they say that we are doomed to walk this path again?
All that has happened before WILL happen again?
What is this harsh imperative?
Couldn't we may-be soften it with a may or a would?
The time has passed for such predilections and musings.
Wind blown ashes alight into chance whimsical forms
As the dust settles, it's clear to see that there is a beautiful disarray
Promising that nothing shall be as it was before but rather better and brighter.