Confessions - Magick

And then he spoke - the Magus. Of a magick more ancient and arcane than others. A magick like no other - a magick so resplendent that all others seem to pale in its presence. Indeed all others seemed to emanate from it. And to return to it. The one magick that was both freely given and difficult to seek at once. The magick that gave time and space their meaning, the magick that made the sun and the moon glow, the magick that caused the passage of seasons. The one magick all men and women understood and excelled in, while masters failed. The one more sought than a Philosopher's Stone, more potent than an alchemist's elixir. And it is this magick he called "Love"

Confessions - Faith

My son asked me today "Mom is Santa for real?" 

I said, "What do you think, son?" 

He said something that I am not likely to forget in a hurry - "I think he's real. No wait, I believe Santa's real."

A 6-year-old knows that the difference between real and 'not real' is the difference between thinking and believing. - And another one of those beautiful life lessons for me.

Confessions - Loneliness

Fear drank again, from the pool of my Soul. Where are you tonight? When I need to be held, closest to your heart? When I need to be told you are mine, forever? When I need to be lived, to be sung like the melody of your Love? The skies mock me – the bright smiles of the stars taunt and tease like cruel children that pinch and pull at my hair. I need to dress in your touch; your caresses shall be my garb. I need to lose the poison that runs through my veins drowning me in this slow painful Death. I need to be reborn into sunshine tonight – make the sun glow for me, rid me of this ever-blackening darkness. This lonely life shall consume me. Either you hold my hand tonight and take me into your fold or I die…

Confessions - Fire

I quite like the danger. Of flirting with fire.

Down South, there is this cult of Goddess worshipers which holds an annual festival. The grand highlight of this temple festival is the walk through fire. A pit of fire is prepared, with dedication, with reverence. Fuel added, fanned, fed. The fire is nurtured, with love. Never allowed to blaze, to burn out. The heat, the embers build up over days to a climactic culmination on the day, nay, the night of the commemoration. And also arrive the "chosen ones". What thoughts sustain them as they walk through the fiery pathway, I know not. What passions drive them to plunge every step through this fervent undertaking; what permits them to cast aside every thought of self preservation and walk the Fire.

Perhaps I do. I have been in Love. I have walked the Fire. I have flirted with the knowledge and the ignorance of the next day, the next hour, the next moment. What turns this kaleidescope may take, what hell or heaven it may lead me to - I know not. But that's perhaps exactly what I am in love with. The lack of safety, the vulnerability. Am I challenging myself? Or am I destroying my semblance of sanity?

Confessions - My Seven Deadly Sins

The young at heart, the young of mind. But "lust" is after all a good thing. What else do we base our lives on? What fun is waging a war you don't care about? What fun is life if desires lie rusty?

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “pride” is after all a good thing. What else is life all about? If you take no pride in your existence, in your work, your desires? Why else do men stray from the mundane and pursue miracles?

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “avarice” is after all a good thing. Why do we live in ‘society’ if not to yearn for what the other man owns? Why do we live in ‘society’ if not to learn where the other man fails? To seek out what another mind has conceived of?

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “wrath” is after all a good thing. What is life if I cannot stand up for what I believe in? And cry out in indignation when dreams mine are trampled? When I seek to rebel against FATE?

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “sloth” is after all a good thing. What good is life when I can’t rest my tired soul against your soothing bosom? If I cant shun the frenzied world to savour the sunshine glaze your eye? If not to sink in your wet kisses?

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “gluttony” is after all a good thing. Where in life do you not demand MORE? And why not? I seek more of me and I seek more of mine.

The young at heart, the young of mind. But “envy” is after all a good thing. I envy you your peace and your restlessness; I envy your ignorance and enlightenment, your sensitivity and sensibility, your caresses and cruelty…

The ancient at heart and tired of mind, the scorched and weary of soul, I am steeped in sin, I AM Sin.

Confessions - Of Logic and Love

Being realistic is not ignoring the anomalies in logic when it comes to emotions, but making room for them...

Confessions - Of Soulmates and more...

There is a certain pleasure that comes from the warmth of a relationship; a certain satiety, that makes one never look for another...a pain that takes over when they fight, a fight that neither can sustain for long, a love that neither can explain, an affection that lingers...and then there is no choice...for better or for worse life is meant to be lived together...'till death do them part'