How Fares The King of the Wasteland?

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Lonely and embittered is the King of the Wasteland. Ruler over phantoms and of regrets, he sees little of worth including himself. How blind, how tragic.

I watch him tread the path well trodden. Deep are the furrows, in body, mind, and spirit. He perches on the precipice, unwilling to retreat. The breeze whispers, torments endlessly, carries the voices of those abandoned, those unloved.

We circle one another, my shield and sword at the ready. Strong is my resolve, harsh is my gaze. I shall not be cowed, shall stand my ground, shall challenge forthwith. Where is my compassion? Held in abeyance, held in Hope.

Be still and at peace I say to ruler of all and ruler of none. How his gaze falters, how his gaze darkens. The tears flow, they glint like diamonds. I say yield unto Love, yield unto Forgiveness. Will he listen? Will he speak?

Heal he must, rejoin the living. Discard hurt he must and notions of revenge, notions of anger. Free yourself, free the others. This I urge but will he listen? Battle he must the fears of his heart. Shadows past and shadows present stand in his path. They are but empty shells, dust filled memories.

He advances but I do not retreat, cannot retreat. How the wounded beast circles, aches to bite, aches to tear. His heart bleeds, his tears fall. Dare I wipe them away? Dare I soothe his heart? Both he and I must divest all that hinders, all that pains. Naked must we face the other, tread the path of freedom. How vulnerable we are, like newborn babies. Hush, hush the Mother whispers. She hears our cries and soothes our hurt.

At last the Sun rises, bringing Light into our Darkness. Yet the path goes on, beyond the horizon. Yet more we should divest, do so in the fullness of time. Gain illumination say our hearts, gain flight and freedom. Be at Peace one says to the other. Journey further, learn much. Part in humility, part in Love.

Image: Pixabay

What are You Seeking?

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We are what you name Watchers. You may ask what our purpose is and we will answer, “Watching you”. There are others less benevolent and these you must watch for humanity. You are gifted with free will, and as such we cannot interfere unless you seek our help.

Why tell you this? Our tale is one that does not end happily, at least for one of your kind. He straddled the Light and Dark, consumed by desires that condemned, and ultimately destroyed him. The vestiges of humanity vanished from his soul as did the lifeblood from his veins.

The bridge between conscious action and blind instinct is a narrow one. He fell, rushed headlong into the abyss. We counselled him but he did not listen. Even though he called us. Such hubris!

An ancient evil heard his cries, opened the gates of no return. She seduced, played him like a lyre, brought forth sweet, sweet music. Then, she feasted upon this prize. For an eternity they lay upon cobwebs and veils of Shadow. Pleasure upon pleasure both sought and received. Such deception she rained upon him until the moment of annihilation.

It was done. We were too late. Another soul was obliterated from memory, imprisoned in her vaults of terror. This is his tale:

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Image: Pixabay

I asks what he’s seeking. He pauses, giving much thought before answering. Eternal Life, regeneration, passion, love, and perhaps even power. 

I read his thoughts, seeking the truth of intentions. What he desires to embrace is total and utter annihilation of selfhood and existence. How little he understands the path being sought.

This human is intoxicated with the concept of life eternal, but sees little else beyond the shadows and nullifying emotions. The ones who look for the vaulted mansions of the undead come away with only dust filled minds. 

The red and black contain a myriad of mysteries. Yin and Yang, blood, power, life, and death. These are the mysteries he seeks but has little understanding of. Those who pass beyond the shrouded doorway are blessed indeed. They see past veils of illusion, into worlds glimpsed in dreams and nightmares. 

What strong limbs you have sweet one, and skin of honey. How his hunger gnaws away at manhood and mind. Soft breath, such soft breath. Dear, dear human! Should I admire your temerity in even approaching the gates of my temple? We watched your birth humanity, and cursed the day you drew breath.

To enter into the darkness is folly I tell him, but does he listen? No, he is beyond redemption. This I expected. What a distraction he will be.

‘Kiss me’ I cajole him. How easily he succumbs, pliant like clay in my hands. His lifeblood races through veins, flesh and bone. It calls to me, sings to me. 

Your scent intoxicates me, it calls to mind incense offered in my temples. Night blooming Hellebore, sandalwood, cedar, and opium poppies. See how he murmurs, yields to my ministrations.

The sun shall not rise for you again dear human. This is the twilight of your existence. The light fades soon from his green eyes, gone, gone. He sleeps now.

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Image: Pixabay

Is this the end you ask? Not quite. In the depths of his despair did he call out one last time to us and we readily answered. Do not be quick to mock, thinking our words reflect mere sentimentality and wishful thinking. The most precious part of this doomed soul we saved. His tiny spark we gathered in love, for the ancient one could do little to stop us. So did the hellish gates of her temple close, until the next time Nameless One. We wait and watch. So, what are YOU seeking?

Firebird

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Image: Viorel Marginean, WikiArt

I dreamed of you last night Firebird, vision glimpsed in forests of cedar and myrrh. Flame garbed oracle, portend of endings and regeneration. My memories urged ‘sing the songs of living and yearning. Let Hope bathe the place of sacrifice and resurrection’. To what purpose the inner voice questioned. No answer came.

My song was thus sung, offered in temple of sky and earth. None other spoke, none other saw, save you. You called forth from a place I have been and shall go again. It exists in the place of Coming into Being. Three times you have called and three more times shall it be, three more to end.

What will you have me do? Mine eyes cannot see what the spirit will not allow. There is always a price to pay by the unwary and unready. Deep does your cry take the soul, beyond mere night and eternal silence. Beyond sight and knowing. Beyond grief and joy.

Hush, hush you whisper. Awake, awake you urge. The blood races, heart hesitates and tongue refuses. I scratch in earth, to prepare whose grave? You answer ‘grave or treasure, it is all the same. It is your destiny’.

Your eyes of memory and imagination watch.What appears is not, until I realize it, call it into being. The dirt beneath my feet undulates, breathes. The dragon moves, prepares. We both embrace this dance of possible desolation. The tongue yields and lulls the beast within, soothes and cajoles. It gazes, looks to my very depths and embraces yet again.

I dreamed of you last night Firebird, vision glimpsed in forests of cedar and myrrh. Flame garbed oracle, portend of endings and regeneration. My song was sung, my soul was freed, my answer given.

Coming into Being: Waiting at the Threshold

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Image: Pixabay

It’s been months seen we last faced each other. No, not quite true. Each morning I greet one aspect of him guarding our porch and again on return in the evening. The statuette sits on the window ledge, as did a previous form, a gentler persona this time. His Nibs (or Anubis) as I affectionately call him, has seen me through calm and turbulent times over the years. I’ve occasionally neglected our association and focussed on other matters. Perhaps I wasn’t ready at those times to see his true message. The gods choose us rather than we choose them. This much I now understand. Continue reading

Orpheus Ascended: Spirit of Memory

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Image: Pixabay

Deep in thought is the green eyed god, brow furrowed and eyes distant. Tormented by past, present and future. Orpheus knows not what path to follow, what choices to make. A decision must be made, his duty, not mine. He called us but denial stares back at us. How we delude ourselves when fate does not comply with our deepest most treasured desire. The same pattern, again and again. His heart still bleeds, still hurts, but wallowing in the swamp of misery and grief serves none. Eurydice is beyond our reach, descended into regions distant and unknowable. She has gained gnosis of a kind that the living cannot, should not be privy to until ready. My sisters and I are Physical Being, Soul and Spirit. The Trinity are we of your Soul oh humanity. The hidden Essence of your very existence. Continue reading

Icarus Reborn

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Image: Pixabay

Dying star, phoenix, what shall we call you? What will you respond to? You who dared to reach the unknowable. For the gods are not kind to those who seek to breach the boundaries placed on high. Humanity should know their place in this world, submit to rule and respect divine law. They are not our words but those of the lawgivers. How fare you Daedalus, witness to such a horror? The young know not what it is to listen to the voice of reason and wisdom. Yet, we feel your pain and sorrow. As such we shall grant regeneration and resurrection for the dying star.

How your face mirrors fear and shock! Dying star you have felt the breath of Helios and succumbed to a fate not wished willingly on anyone. Fire consumes and relents not, charring your wings of feather and paper.  The divinity within slumbers still, not fully awakened, gnosis not yet within grasp. Do not relinquish hope little god. The heavens wait for your ascent, but not before the soul is ready to grasp the wisdom that is awaits you within the wine dark sea.

Death is but the final gateway to Elysium, that much we can promise little god.

See how his eyes close now, finally without fear. He knows what is to come, to be enveloped in the arms of the great sea, mysterious, being both beginning and ending. The sky thunders so, heralding a mystery yet to unfold. Little god, little god, breathe, breathe, the release comes soon. He listens and then surrenders to a greater power. We cut the thread that holds life to fate. We weave the thread that holds life to its fate. It is done and it is beauteous beyond compare. See how his divinity flowers, flows through veins with  life blood. Breath returns, life renews, resurrection is at hand.

Knowing is at hand, glory unfolds before him like a veil of stars adorning the heavens. Ascend into life and the heavens winged one. For both heaven and earth shall rejoice at your emergence into life renewed.

The wine dark sea holds its breath and then offers up its prize. Upon gleaming wings of white, gold and ivory does the little god rise. Great Helios greets his child and adorns the skies with gold in celebration. We fade back into the realm between worlds, waiting.

Rite of Passage: Running with the Storm

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The Elders stand in a semi-circle within the sanctuary. The High Priestess and Shaman stand on either side of the portal and the Summoner in front of it. A storm is brewing in the north, for it is the sky gods who prepare the trials to come for the young initiate warrior. The air is charged with a ferocious energy, it makes the skin tingle with electricity and the heart race with anticipation. The great forest shivers, knowing what is to come. The drums beat out a rhythm that is hypnotic and ancient, the melody of which has come down from the ancestors beyond the stars. It sings of knowledge that is beyond reach of mortals in their unprepared state. ‘Seek, Search’ it chants. Who shall heed this message? Lightning illuminates the gathering for an instance, striking the torch above the portal. It leaps into life as the salamanders gather in their hundreds. Continue reading

Road to Somewhere: The Fool’s Journey

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Photo: Jan Malique

I’m once again in the process of reassessing the past. Recent events have prompted me to scrutinise a piece I wrote some time ago. It was a meditation I performed before travelling to a workshop in April of this year. The theme of the weekend was one aspect of the Arthurian cycle facilitated by the Silent Eye Mystery School. The Green Man was an important aspect of the sacred dramas to be enacted. This meditation was focussed on the Hero’s journey of individuation, seen from a Jungian perspective. I was completing a short course on Jungian symbols. What resulted didn’t surprise me as I felt “something” was waiting for me to enter into its world. A sign surely of mysteries to be unveiled? Continue reading

Where the Light Shimmers

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Photo: Jan Malique

Where the light shimmers is where I will find you.
Where earth meets sky is where you will be.
Where Light rejoices is where you will find me.

The priestess uttered her prayer, hands raised in supplication. She stood at a place of transition. The meeting point of the conscious and subconscious. The meeting point of the past and present. For she was the Cathar Parfaite. For she was Odinn’s Sybil. For she was one who would join the two to become the three. Always three. The number of the Cosmos. The unity of body, mind and soul. Being past, present and future.

Who am I to become?, she asked.

Who do you believe yourself to be?, they responded.

She hid her smile. Riddles, always riddles.

I am one who emerges from the Void, she retorted.

Then the silence prevailed. She had her answer. With eyes closed she joined with the two to become the three. Then they united to become one.