Visionary’s Fate

Visionary’s Fate – from my book of poetry –Life Tales of the Feminine

Whilst scrying through a visionary’s fate, I see the wild eyes of feral beasts peering out of the darkness. A sweeping mistress wades, to and fro, across the river Styx and the tears of heaven, tear the veil of hells gate.
 
Stark relics tell of primitive Shamanic beliefs. An odious deity transforms before my eyes and metamorphoses’ into mystical waves of convulsive chants.
 
Symbolic cannibalistic feastings magically influence those who are but a subclass of nature and draws me into their world.
Elementals surround in midnight conventions and lain upon rituals base, the white lady who proclaims death.
 
A were-beast is chained against the sky god Horus, who would bear witness to regeneration.
 
A foreboding presence looms significantly over the oddly coiling processions, imposing upon my serenity of madness.
Voices call upon the winds and entice hapless victims to their wake, and the black flames of hell lick against the river’s edge, illuminating the succubus and her prey.
 
No longer do I from afar, document the scenes splayed before me, for now it is I, who lay upon the rituals base. How it is that I became one with the horde? I do not know.
 
But looking out into the clear night sky I sense a fanatical hysteria elevating amongst the throng.
 
Pale death takes me by the hand and I feel as though my mind implodes as he engulfs my spirit, shaping its true form.
A fading blue aura sparks against the night sky as the spectral that is I, sheaths its essence upon the physical body and I become a formative force.
 
Now the true I, in elongation with the body, am in response to spiritual control. An Emerald tablet appears before us and I, as if in a trance, begin to write:
 
‘That which is above, is like that which is below and that which is below is like that which is above, to achieve the marvel of the one thing?.’ As I write, I perceive the thoughts of those around me.
 
Flourishing secrets adorn the various deities and rites who partake in my regeneration and rebirth, and ancient mysteries exodus from within.
 
From Ashtoreth, Goddess of fertility, hangs the root of the mandrake, with its enhanced resemblance of human form, from the arc of Eden’s labyrinth.
 
Dance mazes follow in ritualistic patterns that inadvertently lead to its core.
 
Materialization of complete spirits weave their expressions of secret knowledge upon the astral plane, and our altered states of consciousness induce enlightenments that are only eclipsed by our disharmonies, harmonies.
 

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