We are rivers runningEven when we are lostCrystal oceans in sightPaths splintered and aloneFrom the ocean we comeSprinting craving silver
I challenge I’ve had recently is that my creativity has been blocked. I’ve not been writing as much as I
I enter the incense smoke filled room and make our intentions known. I chant, dance, sigil and sing. I visualize
It’s easy to see the cups being open to what is offered from above. But, how do I bring myself
Is it not magick to create the path out of life and life out of the path?
More than any other shadow or demon which lurks in the shadiest corners of the astral plane; more than any earth violence or even the accumulated bigotries and ignorance of humanity, fear of myself, fear of my own creativity stops me faster and harder than anything else.