Magick runs in your veins.
It has always been there, singing quietly to your soul, manifesting in a string of odd coincidences that flicker like will o’ the wisps guiding you to the waters edge of your Psyche, tempting and daring you to dip your toe into the unknown.
It is the very beating of your heart that echoes through eternity, seeking out the call from your ancestral line, wondering at the eldritch nature of it all, not ever quite grasping that elusive feeling which is just out of reach; tantalising, like the dream that fades leaving a smile on your face, or the glint of light over the oceans’ waves.
What is worth bleeding for?
It would be a waste of precious life blood to follow the step by step instructions as demanded by others, never painting outside the lines and shadowing through the world as a spectre of potential and promise.
You have your own medicine to spill into the world, if only you would speak it. It requires sacrificing all outmoded ideals of normality, you cannot fade amongst the world and connect to your highest self; you were made from Stardust and Earth to shine in your humble being, not to blind others but to create constellations together, a part of something greater, more wondrous, connected in thought and word and deed…
Do you love yourself?
It can be hard to, in a world that encourages a materialistic view of the body and the ever-distant promise of so-called perfection; ignoring the fact that you were always perfect, always whole, and the chase to be elevated is a leash keeping you tethered and spinning in circles.
If only you could see your soul-self, wild and howling, covered in blood-paint from crushed berries and lined in the dirt from the Earth, covering yourself in the currency of your ancestors; from where all seeds birth into being and where all dying things return.
Would you then be complacent in stagnant thought? Never moving, only taking instruction, never weaving, or dancing?
Or would you remember who you always were, ready to spring into the world in triumphant action, speaking your words yet always listening, refining, growing?
Magick is alive, and it needs your humming soul, creatrix.
Spirituality is forged by those who understand what it means to walk a path that is an art, to feel it deep in your soul and alchemise it into manifestation, those who create…
Drink deep of your Otherness.
Poetry is a language of the universe, to seek the beauty in the world, and the wonder, to admire all the intricacies of the earth as they blossom and wither, the Divine speaks in echoing words that breech time and exist beyond measurement…
Spirituality needs your art, beautiful.
It needs the efforts of those creating, weaving hands that sing the tales of old and keep memories alive, who add to the conscious collective mind and stitch together experience and meaning with beauty…
The absence of passion from magick renders it nullified and stagnant, to speak through the weakness of hubris devoid of artistry is to drain all life blood and render the world a pale shade of itself in order to dominate it.
Magick cannot be the divorce of mind and heart, it is a symphony between emotion and reason.
Remove one, and there is no magick.
Logic without heart becomes psychopathic and cruel, emotion without reason becomes unruly and indiscriminate.
Magick lives in your emotional body, flowing through your spirit veins, opening your eyes to other worlds as you breathe deep of the Otherness that it just out of view.
What are you living for?
The time is now.
Many blessings, Starlet,
Joey Morris
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Magick runs in your veins. It has always been there, singing quietly to your soul, manifesting in a string of odd coincidences that flicker like will o’ the wisps guiding you to the waters edge of your Psyche, tempting and daring you to dip your toe into the unknown. It is the very beating of […] -
Magick runs in your veins. It has always been there, singing quietly to your soul, manifesting in a string of odd coincidences that flicker like will o’ the wisps guiding you to the waters edge of your Psyche, tempting and daring you to dip your toe into the unknown. It is the very beating of […]
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Magick runs in your veins. It has always been there, singing quietly to your soul, manifesting in a string of odd coincidences that flicker like will o’ the wisps guiding you to the waters edge of your Psyche, tempting and daring you to dip your toe into the unknown. It is the very beating of […] -
Magick runs in your veins. It has always been there, singing quietly to your soul, manifesting in a string of odd coincidences that flicker like will o’ the wisps guiding you to the waters edge of your Psyche, tempting and daring you to dip your toe into the unknown. It is the very beating of […]
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