The last couple of months I have perfected my greatest achievement of magick, daily, in the feeding of a multitude from a loaf and a fish daily. My couch has been warmed by several transitory bodies which have found their way to my doorstep hungry and cold. I have never been able to turn away a stray. We have always had the privilege of being an Oasis where those arriving on the doorstep find sanctuary. We do not judge, nor turn away. And it's known that those who arrive at six will be fed, and I am a very good cook.
Had a slip in consciousness, a narcolepsy attack. I wrote this while it happened:
So no more I seek for light
Stumbling in darkness for a ghost
Bearing on my breast a radiant star
And on my back the sign of man.
So no longer do I speak
And no longer do I guide
And no more do I dwell upon the loss
Of a ‘secret companion’ at my side.
No longer do I kindle without kindling
No more praying for a dream
No more struggling for a vision
Or a sign from the unseen.
No more kneeling
No more humbled
And grasping I no more.
There is no force outside of me
Nothing separate from the core.
There is no still small voice now
And No confidant
No name to seek
No more
There is no swift benevolence
Nothing now
Nothing Before.
There is nothing
There is nothing
There is nothing
But a ghost
Supplication is
Feebly futile
There is no
Angelic Host.
There is no God
There is no dreamer
There is nothing
But a dream
There is no lover
For the starving
No satiation
For the clean.
Unsatisfied
All is folly
All perception
Greatly flawed
I have stopped seeking,
I have found nothing
And in Nothing, God.
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