My sacred fire drives me wildly into consciousness – beauty is its fuel. Flames ripple up from my feet and over my lap, into my fingers and through to this keyboard.

I do not disperse myself. This is not an energy I am uncomfortable with sitting in indefinitely. This is me. Why be scared? And what of?

You do not seek out the boy in me and I do not wish to bring him to you. We exist for the God and the Goddess in each other. Revere them, in the few spaces we can find them, when they do not meditate silently in solitude away from seeking eyes.

Love is the fruit of the tree of discipline. I love myself, I love all living creatures. I love women, God I love women. I love them enough to live a life of discipline, to not indulge them at every whim, and to know when feminine influence ends and masculine direction begins. And when that tree bears fruit to feast like a King.

I do not write to please – I write to write. Not to please. So when I write to please, you may have that, and when I write to write it shall stay with me, dear Teacher. I am empty. Fill me.

This ancient soul has returned again and is unconvinced by the promise extolled by the posters they put up in public spaces. I wish, instead, only to right and write until all I’m left with is the shavings of a blunted eraser, corrected mistakes, and a life of power, art, and beauty. What will it take? I’m sure we’ll find out. Journey with me? Journey.

Ancient men rest idly with backs-to-wall in corridors that I prayerfully amble down, fitting myself into increasingly simpler spaces and becoming happier there. They watch as I pass, and I know they are here for me yet I cannot make out a familiar face. With discipline, however, I know too that time will unfold all life’s mysteries. Patience, then, is the test. So patiently, I wait.

I lay back in the mean time and watch the fruit ripen, becoming fat and plump with sweetness like a chair-bound emotional eater. Move slow. When the time comes: strike fast. In power, share the fruits of my patience. Victory is in each moment.

– M



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