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| You & your Other. |
She's frigid cold & mercilessly indifferent to what haphazardly engages the fraught & stricken attention, of what is going on, on the surface of the lower dark waters. The fleeting individual waves in the watery mobile mass, hoping, beseeching comfort, tending toward their consolation in this world's dissolving, ...alas, thru the activity of their meager and ephemeral lives, killing themselves reciprocally without using the slightest kinetic strength, emptying their essence into pot dreams; life's glance defending, whatever would send it meaninglessly straight to Hell.
Untouched by all and every kind of touch, but ever abiding at her knight's backside, holding to him, from the opposite corner, diagonally through out his many ceaseless efforts to undermine and overcome the shadows of carnal distress.
She laughs defiantly, full of compassion when he advances nearer almost winning the contest, failing physically into this world's twilight. Life's serpent dancing in all its curves, the wrinkles wobbling in the curtain fibres.
Because he's still so naive, skeptical. Still a good man. What jew wouldn't laugh at him or at his back side when his back is turned?
He acts as if others were as he were, straightforward, trusting, and loyal, seeking no reward in any transaction. Being a vessel of honorable goodness. However never entrusting his soul to no mortal lady, safe to the inner pretty self contemplating, the wondrous light in the mirror, tugging at him from inside his own beautiful being.
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| The conception of the Astral Body. |
The Maiden is your soul. Your hidden self watching, perceiving from the inner regions of the Aether, as the colored waves ripple across the breathing air. Disappearing, reappearing. In peace in conflict. In birth, in death. In love and hate!
She's the back side of the head. Your head's reverse and sweet darling face. The dawn in the dark with the nightingales singing. The Black Goddess in the brazen Pit, reaching out to you clasping your hand to lift you to your selfless courage, when you've fallen. Embracing you each day you die.
Telling you to get up and fight again, again...my Love. My darling dear.
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| It's only Smoke & Mirrors. |
