Demons in the air, on the wind. In the trees. Creaking with the leaves and swimming with the moon. The moon is lit up like a chapel at the bottom of the ocean. The light through the eves wavers in slow motion. Sometimes when I ask myself questions that I need to know I imagine, I am talking to the part of me that has always been. The E=mc² part, the part that’s comforted by its Anemnesis. It’s voice is loud as any. Has a better perspective than most. Can take any form. This teacher needs to be invoked. My need is to manifest its teachings. There is no other way. The way has been broken. There is nothing more to learn from the father and mother. All have been shut and can no longer remain so. Many mistakes are made on a new path. Chiseled facets along a winding line on a map. Strewn together looking like constellations. All together didactic in its pattern. This can be predicted but is no answer. There isn’t anything there in the common sense that im asking. It would be my “I” asking the “self” in the jungian sense. But it nevertheless knows things that I don’t know. It has answers and must be invoked.
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