Lets start at the end shall we? Or maybe it’s the beginning? All I know is the burning desire to create art from my ashes, so I will burn my temple down as a more meaningful effigy tonight. It keeps me ever so warm throughout the cool auttumn evenings. It helps to strip me of my condition. It seems we are all born sick. Burning with ravenous fever we attempt in vain to shed the shadow of our narrow cast. To feel and to feel not. This sacred fire was given unto the hands of creation in return for the ability to recieve it’s burn.
And I will wash myself clean in the most sacred of rivers known to my unconscious mind, my goal is to forget what I know in hopes to better find my way through this ocean of thought I accept as reality. Where all free flowing bodies eventually merge into one another. Where as a whole collective we can willingly cleanse our thoughts in the cycling ebb and the inevitable flow of our own dissolution. As this same body of water dissolves softly and slowly into the wanting and giving soil.
I will breathe in the healing forces of the universe, as the task at hand is a critical one… We must all learn to seperate those parts of ourselves that we have allowed for too long to hold us down. We must shed our gravity, yet be mindful of it, to take with us only the best and lightest parts of what we once were. We can once again find the balance. So often it seems the distance between our own two hands is the same as the distance between the darkness and the light. I ask you my friends to choose your battles wisely, fore war is a weapon oft won with diplomacy and silent strategy. Seperation is neccessary in such phallic representations of truth. What shines is not always gold.
Now it is time to search deep within to find the artistic as well as the analytical essences of our being. Meld these components together to better understand and rationalize the true self and more fully define what exactly that is, so that later it can be held onto with a more firm grasp. This is the union. This is the acceptance of destiny to depict such a bountiful and beautiful blend. How good it can feel to fall into anothers skin. Sharing breath while becoming androgenus like the moon. But always reaffirm your true sole nature of self.
We must allow everything that we create with our experience into our hearts and stew in our own juices from time to time. We can learn to create the most colourful innebriants of life, in order to help us expand our concepts of all that is, until truth wells up in our throats, like a storm which cannot be stopped and we must proclaim that acceptance, or it would be blasmphomous to the core of ones self not to. The warm ground will call you to your knees in order to recieve the doctrines behind the coordinated chaos of the cosmos. This is when you can open your heaving chest and allow eternity to fill your empty space. If god does exist, this is his venerated hand.
Now with any luck we will forget who we are and remember what we are meant to be, we must always rise up, in order to fall down so that we may raise again…. Sometimes so shaken we must get, to the very core, for those most pure of qualities to surface once again and those qualities are the same ones that keep the stars forever balanced in the above that we witness from below. We can allow the form to be the orchestrator of the function. To access the void and listen to the silence of self which only perpetuates this broken and reflected image. Giveth your name to the tablets of rememberance and push slowly up the climb. We can scatter our fallible and failing bones at the summit.
And when we have reached our peak, and there is nowhere else to go but upward…. We will know that there are experiences that take us over the edge, that from that place we can no longer report back… There are states of being that go beyond what definitions we can give, that is where the lead of our ego burns off its dross and becomes a more purified and refined representation of our true self. The synthesized and so called wool was never there in the first place. The oceans have calmed to sheets of glass as the horizon spills everything it has into my being. We are as feathers along a narrow mountain stream. We are as bubbling clouds that caress the sky with wandering fertile hands and genius genial minds. Our love will echo always simply beacuse we are.
By: Transition the Scribe