Karma‘s a witch.
Men are of the sun, women are of the moon, they say. Mars and Venus, light and dark, lust and love. We are all both women and men in that we vary like shades along a spectrum, the extremes expressed within and between successive lifetimes manifest as the infinite and eternal cosmos. Emotional and physical characteristics run the gamut and there is no gender to love.
Unbreakable denizens of mythic proportions, the frailty of each of our chosen paths is based upon illusions shattered by life’s concordant realities. This shit is hard.
Tell me your problems
and I’ll tell you mine,
joy and transcendence,
Moment to moment we live in the ever-present now lost in the past and future. The record plays, scratched vinyl echoes in a lonely room. Alone and together we rise and fall, wobbling between right and wrong singing our breathless and unquenchable inner song. The band trails behind, my own personal theme song echoing in my mind. Maybe you feel me though, as you thread your way between yesterday, today and tomorrow’s problems,swaying to the beat as life brings you heat and you make decisions based upon illusions leading to collisions of collusion and intent, soul groups bent upon manifesting perfection’s vision matched perfectly against doubt’s relentless incision …
… revealing … our …
Words on a page on stage. Spoken to heads dead and alive, glued to an electronic eye.
Your sense of who you are, of me, myself and I, falling to my knees and screaming out to the sky, why? Why did I choose this path, why did daddy leave you to die, why did mama make you cry, why did I – no, your brother, sister or friend – betray you with disappointment and lies? There’s no reply, sometimes, yet, a choice has to be made.
Another path betrayed.
Branching off into future infinities the shade beckons beneath the tree of life, off to the side. Residing within screaming warnings soul glides, we ride the wave of indecision deciding by … not … deciding.
Colliding with fate, karma tumbling and casting her net far and wide, what is done returns full on, crashing over us like a tide washing sandcastles away, to be built upon the same shifting shoals another day. This is the way, the path, the cause and effect of the interplay between dark and light, your tearful eyes, my joyous might.
The way only clarifies when the moment arrives. The choice is now. But it keeps getting put off …
until now …
… and now …
… and now.
This shit is easy. Frail denizens of un-noteworthy dimensions, the power of each of our chosen paths is based upon realities proven by life’s bounteous lessons.
Till we find ourselves there not here, our fears cast away into the ides of time, become memory just a rewind fading into experience at building walls inside of our minds that divide us into discrete units of the divine. Crumbling at varying rates into decaying particles of quantum flux that replicate us endlessly, holograms of intent stream into future’s purview, doubts and worries about our abilities arising anew, striding roughshod over the irrepressible urge to elevate our view.
I can do and be anything
Swinging back and forth, rising higher falling lower, growing and changing in tune with our innermost orientations. Loving and hating, building and destroying, we project what is within without, the ire and rage mixed with laughter and loving words. Movement is promised. The fallen mingle with the elevated, the transcendent discourse of eternity manifest.
Karma’s a witch.