"transference"

With everything so dense, and too much time to suggest. Why the diplomatic revenge never settled the distress? The sixth stench, affix hints, match the quick lips. Slip the arrow to the center of the crucifix.

When Movements come and go, the whispers never end. Shifting the direction, in perception we defend. It really doesn’t matter and it all just depends. A metaphor, underscore, can’t ignore the witty lore, what’s in store, must implore; seek beyond the hidden door. It’s never there, it never was, it’s all because it’s everywhere. Meet the maker, ditch the savior, hedge the bet on Pascal’s wager.

Forget the razor, what’s left is something further. Clip the wings and rest your fervor.

Until we speak the language of the old ones. Symbols everywhere, Right here, Look again, it’s not there? Tint the glare, mix with care. Confused by what’s real and unfair. Snakes in the grass, mind ever-last, you just a symptom of the whiplash.

Who’s the king of this kingdom full of novelty, except this big gasp?

Still, I sit back, count the times that I never fought the rabbit in my backpack. Digging deeper for the Number #2, but it’s frozen in a coma- Imagine that? But it's like that. Mental plagues the 7 rays for several days. Lucid dreams, a fixed scene, comforting my well-being.

And yet.....I won't forget. The dirty crumbs you left behind the mirror. Placed in a jar between an explanation and the fear.

↯DESCEND↯

And then it came. The curtain looked different yet the calls announced the same. The blame, the shame, the rain, nothing lasts forever was the saying. In November, not December, sip the cup of defeat and surrender. If only we could remember, who's the winner not the sinner. The timeless battle with(In) Khaos. The electric space that is Inner.

The 7even step ladder with heavy chatter "Sharpest of Them All"
A dizzy path without a key from a devastating fall. To ascend or descend depends which point of view. An ancient myth, a technique, a journey underneath. Imagination, a full clip, an allegory so to speak.

We stand Under the meaning of what is called mystique. 
Ursa Major, quite the savior for the weary and the weak.

Faith is what you make it, you can lose it and escape it, reach the top of what was vacant. Alter egos in the basement from the trauma which is sacred. The last defense when nothing's left of a soul that is naked.

The spell of mathematics, the algorithm in how we form our habits. A sudden panic in the attic when reality isn't static. A dramatic change in perspective and many call it Magick.

It's automatic.

Likely just the psyche being manic. An effect from placebo but not as romantic. The death and rebirth from events that are tragic. The journey of the hero. A tall tale in semantics.

 Suppose you are the ruler of it all. A conscious decision without a tower or a wall. Reconcile the Unconscious, a sacred marriage with no applause. The Great Work, archetypal integration, duality dissolves. It's the secret under your nose, to redeem the hidden Self identified with the Ego. To juxtapose who we truly are with the facade we've come to know.

The Milky Way is the garden to which Atom and Eve arose. A night time ritual for the Heavens to expose. The Age of Pisces had its angels. Age of Aquarius has the U.F.Os. Is religion a cargo cult dressed in someone else's clothes? Sekret Machines that dance
 around as if this is all a big show. A relative task for the audience below.

 Who knows? It's up in the air when you come to think of it. The approach of the cosmic giggle once the observer commits. Experiences that parse reality and define what we call mysterious. Beyond the profane that deifies anything serious.

Awake or asleep, the liminal space that is neither:

  "Synchronistic ripples; the whitecaps in the billows of the coincidental either" 

(^◕.◕^)

“Nobody knows jack shit about what’s going on“, a conversation with the mushroom, Mckenna was gone. To destroy what you've known, rebuild and move on. Pay attention, listen close, this is where you belong. "What you call man, we call time."  The fungus IS among us...oh how it is so sublime.

 If nobody is in control, who is the sysop of this giant computer? Isn't that where this all leads, a sentient being from the future? Perhaps it's equations from dynamics and entropy. Variables that pivot the tables and eschew the identity. 

Time won't tell, there is no hell, it's all a big lie for someone to sell. Capitalism rings the bell, drowns the soul, ignores the smell and feeds the troll.

Americas fall from the top and moral decay.
The Empire never ended, 'When in Rome,' they say.

We're surrounded by celestial allegories of the past with much to convey, but slowly the truth got lost in the fray. Careless whispers in a game of telephone we play. Now we end every call with a mindless 'thoughts and prayers' cliché.

 Recall this legend in the midst of the throes.
To forget and remember is the gift we all chose.

Ω