Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Deep within these thick growth, where sunlight does not penetrate for millenia together,
lies the wildflower i have been searching for my entire life. Nothing even comes close.
Some say your life unfolds around one central theme; mine is this wild passion flower. This indigo orchid which has planted itself within my brain. It refuses to die. It has led me to its source.
Some people run around for all that money, they think that it will get them high and happy. But the source is here and now, in the middle of nowhere. In the center of a violent storm, a quake of immense proportions hits me. I refuse to bow down, some shrieks of doom, some where far away... looks like shes coming for me, and there is just no escape.
What I was hunting, is hunting me now. She is quick as my eyes, more potent than my tongue. She silences with one whiff. She hooks me on with one gaze.
Like honey she flows all around me, there is no more disruptions. Holding her hands, i find that i am taken to somewhere even more exclusive. Where day and night will not disturb, where I will be consumed whole.
The cave smells of the transition which every man has to make one time in his life. Will it be my tomb as well? Oh passion flower, untamed and free. Let me become thy servant. Serve you to the best of my resources. Giving up the world at your roots, I have come for more than just your transitory beauty.
Source of wisdom, reeking of that sense of divine, poured down like melody poured in me like the winter wine. wrecking havoc within my veins. Slow redemption at thy presence.
You who are called soma, ayehuasca, tara and even shiva by those who you have captured in your etheric web of life. You without name or form, existence or breath . how apt that I pass on in your sight.
The dream unfolds slowly, yet fades not. Rapid is the transition towards normalcy. But what that is I couldn't define. Born/spewed like something of distaste from the womb, no one to take care of this..... person... not even me.
Take pity tara my wildflower, for you are the seed of this universe. You are the drug which keeps us high in this life time or any other. You are the source of forgetfullness, which consumes us when we are old.
And you are verily the root which breaks our dead down beneath the ground, six feet down down down.
Neither the sun nor the moon could meet you alone, nor the wise and the foolish.
Satisfaction took her seat in your heart; Hate for the mundane took up your third eye.
Oh secret wildflower, do not be distant from myself. I am a part and parcel of what you intended me to be, I am not the working man, nor the diseased rat, not the irresponsible jester and definitely the dead walking here alone amongst the dead.
Many years pass by(time has no meaning within this abyss of death stench), i wake up and lie. I puke my insides out, my bowels and my brains. Everything human is no more a part of me.
The wildflower is still working from within. writhing in pain from this pathetic demeaning creation, i look to vomit even more. Nothing is a part of me now. Nothing is a part of nothing eh ?
Colors and those noises come out. Devoid of the void. Void awaits no more.
I walked into this trap without my knowledge, I felt i was saving myself but now i realize.. that there was nothing to save. There was only this sweet nothing in the first place.... takes the intoxication of the wildflower to see. to realize. to be. to never be. never ever be.
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