It so easy to teach and determine
the realms of ghosts, of the night and
of souls, when we ourselves have not
touched any depth of our own ghosts,
our own souls and our night, that travels
those eternal shores. I arrived at the waves
between illusion and reality, between light
and dark and the dark side of the light
where I found magic and bondage.
Fate offers something greater and will
that is why people do not believe in fate.
Here our sight becomes blurry and what
was once familiar becomes a place of weakness.
We can no longer walk and must crawl. This is
why prayer was invented.
My wanderings always guaranteed shadows
and if I missed even one doorway, then I would
have never been close enough to the source to
experience any mystery at al. Never confuse great
difficulty and burden with wrathful fate, where
the unfolding of a life is not a choice in the
matters of your greatest burdens.
Near the end of any cycle, there is a new beginning,
another chance to search for your soul. She has always lived
in our choices, in our suicides, in our regret when we are old
and she only pays us a visit when we are most vulnerable,
or deathly sick or abandoned and have no refuge in our misery.
For those who do believe in their soul take note that the faces
and the voices when we say “yes”, to the ones who call out
to you with no physical body. Always say “no” to spirit or the dead,
and that is when the difficulty begins and not a day before.
Say no, long enough to recognize exactly who the shadow light
is and why they are here. Do not glorify the light or the dark,
just to get a taste of spirit, for each of them are a mirror –
fact of you. Spiritual people are always willingly to hold out their
wrists to be handcuffed to the dead, to spirit or paranormal,
the creatures and even ancestors that they do not know.
As shadows try to convince you they are light or your ancestor
or the divine. Its easy to know spirit, the dead, when
you have never even met your own soul.
…. this is the meaning of being in-between
illusion and reality and the nightly whispers
of your own soul’s winter.
Source: Poem by Phoenix
of Elder Mountain, Image of
Sibenik Krka & Skradin, Croatia.