Monday, May 17, 2010


I arrived at the end of ratnagiri, and hitch hiked my way to the ancient temple in the small desolate village of _____; It is not pleasant to speak of travails as if they were casual. The dead speak in tongues. They loll it till you drop dead in their place. I took my rosary close to my soul; spreading and chanting the bija mantra to ward that which did not know; did not know what it did.
Barefoot in the heat; the striking glow of the sun on each rock polished eroded and burnt up. Spread to a thousand miles each which way; there has been no respite from the demons of my mind since the day I took birth crying for solace.
Sun and moon will play their games; as the ancient temple atop the lonely hill awaited my arrival. Nothing but the haunted stared; their lifelessness rubs off if you dont have the energy to dissipate (in their presence); otherwise what is the difference between you and the ghouls of yesterday.
I leave sleep and food behind; the sun feeds me and my mind rests by itself. The earth shakes; tremors and etheric whips of sheer prana come out and lunge at me; a slight mis calculation and it will be done; There will be no one to burn my remains.
I decided with the grace of the divine, I sit outside and meditate for the rays to penetrate; Into the amulet i possess, one last time till the sun drowns in crimson red. Opening my hair; and shrieks abound to warn of my presence; laughing and crying at the same time is such a pathetic existence.
The karna pischasha in my ear; talks with certainity of what is to be; it knows the present and past, and digs for the future of my end. Sure sure i invite its intonation, of my demise. I know I was born to die; die a dog's death, no lover by my side; not even god would care.
Darkness surrounding, it smells of something out of the world, the senses cannot fathom; the mind crawls back into its primitive shell. The two etheric beings arrive; the ones who have sensed me; the ones who have stalked my dreams.
One of ice, long and stick like, sick and dispassionate, It jumps from spot to spot for the earth cannot hold its energy for more than a fraction or more. Besides it the fat disfigured mutilated fire; filled to the brim with wrath, stuck to the core, inviting each soul to come inside and taste nevermore.
They laugh and taunt, "You of feeble faith" they call repeatedly out to me, show me your staff; show me your sacred ash. They burn and breathe ice simultaneously.
Drunk with the name of my master, I put my staff once in front, twice fold behind, they scoff and remain glued to the movements of the energy of the wood splinter which strikes through them. The life force becoming weak.
They pound the ground in a fluid motion and enter my head from the two orifices of my nose, I breathe them in at the same go. They open the doors of this ancient ruin once and first over a millenia since it has been struck shut. Fear nay Power holds what is inside away from the dimension cast as this earth. It is opened, for a split; I am dragged in air and taken inside. The path is decorated inside deeper within the ground...
The temple goes inside the hill, under the ground; heat and cold both strike fast inside me, from the spine to my mind. My eyesight shut, my senses closed. I am all to what laya has taught me, the first and the last recourse to deal with ultimate truth.
The temple is sage; It is decorated with the bones, bones of saints, who have given their lives after spending it in contemplation and decapitating their physical heads at the bali - stone. The center portion of the sanctum sanctorom never seen still red with blood.
The darkness is lit by the eyes of the dead. They are flashing like stars from another galaxy. I am in black space; or so it feels, illuminated all over by the eyes of the taunting ancients, who gave up their breath for something more satiating.
The older reign, did not see as the recent seekers of freedom would; reality was tangible, death wasnt; how to escape? give up the body, live as what was not physical forever in the place which the ice and fire powers beckoned to. The masters spent eons buried in sand and hills, enduring the heat and cold. The hunger and thirst would not bother, the concept to escape, to escape to some place immortal had caught their attention.
The ghouls laughed at me, to try to convince, to try to allure, put the fear of death and the fragility of mortality. They ripped me, shred my soul, took my rosary and converted it to filthy gold. Their metamorphosis, to show me how frail my quest for freedom was. How everything was relative especially what i called freedom. They didnt leave I to I, they twisted and turned it till I died.
Yes I died, in the special site of the old masters, but I did not join them, my path was lit in life and death; They spit and cursed, yet I would and could not be cured. My soul did not exist, like theirs forever, forever trapped. My final moments, before non existence was to see the ghastly deals that we humans in the name of life everlasting did, to the extents we could undergo. To tread on one and other, the universe of energies took advantage of this naive race, they held us captive, in a dimension where life was forever, where form was not temporal or permanent. But we still existed, one which way or the other, constantly being fed off by one or the other. We could not escape even then...
The temple remains a light brighter than the sun for those who wished their freedom from alluring life everlasting, to be back into the void, where nothing will ever be anything other than what it was meant to be.
Nothing is free
It is the cost which isnt you see
but you must remember that no one and nothing is what it seems to be..

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