“The dark dangerous forest is still there, my friends”. – Fritz Leiber
“And I will destroy sorcery from your hand, and you will have no soothsayers”. – Micah 5:11
We search in our souls for the connecting code. The witch master key to unlock the words we know, the symbols that will take us to a different day, the one outside of Victorian gates. Three billion people don’t believe in Jesus while one billion do, another billion-chanting sunshine, while a billion wish they could, and further down the slippery slope of what’s next of when. Another says I have been here before many times over again. Across the old world in genetic code, something is exploring what’s known of us; a question asked from age to age, is what we are and what we must. We look to the sun, while we gather dust; the footprints “Jung” said are dug deep in questions of what we mistrust. In circles, we gather in churches in squares, one looking for synergy, one control from higher air.
We search in the canyons, I have been in some too, the “Canyon De Chelly” I saw ghost in their hue. But this is not me, it is hardly us, it is a we searching when thoughts are not enough. For we in our spirit that stretch to explore, the witch master key to bring G_D to our door. What of such a key that most do not describe, except when their searching to cross this divide. From here on this earth in sacred abides, in glens of the forest, or rocky inclines, I dare say in deserts where banshee’s cry, oh look ever yonder is the searching throng mollified.
We search in our souls for the connecting code. In lamb’s blood on doorpost, as if one would know, the riddles in blood that satisfy one, is it guardian or judgment, we forget which one won. The truth is the more that we search for the light, the witch master key, it becomes dark as night. In one day, you are staring too hard at the fire. A thundering of all burning, the magic of art. The flames they engulf you, and eat what was we, they know no such treatise of souls that are free. They burn your safe harbor the code of your ark. The search is not over, for it did not start.
So, what is the answer the answer for we, in search of the witch master, the spiritual key? Perhaps it is simple not filled with much noise; perhaps it begins with arms raised to the void. Perhaps it surrounds all that is you or me; in separate our union, of individuality. I would not try craft that is another’s art, for that key is different from what grows naturally in your own heart. – 04.12.18 – דָּנִיֵּאל