garden_pixie: (Default)
by Johann W. Von Goethe

Tell a wise person, or else keep silent,
because the mass man will mock it right away.
I praise what is truly alive,
what longs to be burned to death.

In the calm water of the love-nights,
where you were begotten, where you have begotten,
a strange feeling comes over you,
when you see the silent candle burning.

Now you are no longer caught in the obsession with darkness,
and a desire for higher love-making sweeps you upward.

Distance does not make you falter.
Now, arriving in magic, flying,
and finally, insane for the light,
you are the butterfly and you are gone.


And so long as you haven't experienced this:
To die and so to grow, you are only a troubled guest on the dark earth.
garden_pixie: (Default)
Today was a strange day.

I did the normal things you do: buy dog food, clean the kitchen, take a nap. You know, the normal sorts of things you do in order to order your life. But the strangeness came in other bursts: Joe and AJ leaving for Atlanta, the odd lunch with Jeffrey, and an evening with friends that involved german chocolate cake and eggnog lattes.

I have a quiet streak setting in.

I am writing a dark god/dark goddess ritual. I am having to differentiate between darkness and evil.

My heart is in a state of quiet and movement at the same time. It's watching life, and learning.

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May 2019

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