"But the raven, sitting alone on the placid bust, spoke only a single word, as if his soul had poured out in that single word."
"From all the depths of good and evil, The mystery that still binds me, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my eyes."
E.A. Poe.
When the "Magician" manifests, it is his own essence that he drains; By dissolving it through writing, singing, dancing, and working; He consumes it and raises it to the heavens, like an ethereal offering to God, who, through this frantic process, constantly calls him back to himself, to resurrect him once again.
Our power has never truly been ours.
And yet it has never left us.
IGG
Ajouter un commentaire
Commentaires