Dragon and Magic

artist, pineal gland, poem, psychedelics

Psychedelic Druid.

While my gaze searched the horizon for meaning,

Questions that once caused me to lay awake in bed at night,

Seem to be answered,

But this answer didn’t come in the form of words,

It’s language was a different type,

A visual song that encapsulated my spectrum,

Once the endless array of rainbows giving birth to rainbows ceased,

Light radiated from every living thing,

Before me was the cosmos and I was just a part of it’s mathematical time scale,

The sky looked as if it was made from the most precious stones,

They formed patterns that created a ceiling of divine proportions,

It became a comedy to think in my waking life I had forgotten this place,

These realms that felt so familiar it seemed like only a moment had passed since my last visit,

Angelic entities spoke of love as my ego tried with all its might to keep my mind running,

This adversary we may spend a lifetime in battle with does not come from an external source,

The good, bad and everything in between comes from within,

And all this stuff we cling to for meaning can trick the heart into feeding its greed if we do not discipline the spirit,

Nature is where I choose to gain this education from,

And the many teachers it provides with wisdom that was already ancient when our ancestors first learned to talk,

If we seek to look,

But who was really looking?

Questions and knowledge is what fuels this fire that burns within me,

Its warmth keeps me charged when the world gets dark,

It dwells in all hearts,

The path is up to you if you choose to start,

Of course it can be tricky to navigate such a place,

The true lesson of Faith,

Only in sacrificing the illusion of self,

Can one be truly free,

Death,

Not a curse nor a taboo,

It is the only destiny we all share to be true,

So while I am here and for a time that I am me,

I sacrifice the eye within as Ravens rest upon my tree,

The roots of my being ground me to the Earth,

Returning to that which has given me Birth,

God is not a man with a beard who lives in the sky,

It is within an interconnected consciousness of what is you and I,

These spells are spoken for my ancestors that were silenced,

Eternally pagan over dogmatic violence,

From days of Bronze,

When dragons flew,

Stone circle gatherings

And a magical fungi brew,

Something inside me always knew,

The language of the trees,

Of nature,

So as I gaze upon the beauty of this planet,

Grateful I am to have the honor to inhabit

Because this place is truly magic.

E.L.S

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