Elixir part 3 – The paradoxes of Melancholy

Elixir part 3 – The paradoxes of Melancholy
3 July 2022
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Amelia found a seat not far from the dead teenager and threw herself on it as she could hardly bear the crescendo of the wailing that emanated from the Melancholists. The wails subsided after a while and the Melancholists slowly exited the burial ground passing by the parents and other family of the young teenager and offering condolences to them. Amelia knew they would soon be gone to their dwellings all around Melancholy. She wished to see how they entered their dwellings that seemed hermetically shut and asked if she could follow them. The Melancholists accepted in hope of making of her an ally who could create the Elixir their breed needed so much. Even they, as a matter of fact, would do better with some drops of Elixir to make their lifeline longer and the beauty of their life greater.

Amelia followed a crowd of Melancholists back to their dwellings and she saw one family after the other slide into the slit that revealed itself to them and be gone into their mushroom-like dwellings. She realized that the slits would appear only to the owners of the mushroom and not anyone else – not even the other residents of Melancholy. One of the Melancholists by her side told her that it was only if the owners gave specific orders to the membrane that covered their dwelling that it would open to someone else. The orders had to be accompanied by a ritual if the dwelling was to open to a non-resident of Melancholy. This was to ensure a double protection from a potential non-resident of Melancholy trying to harm the Melancholists by forcing them to say the orders. Indeed, even if the orders could be given under constraint the ritual could only be made by someone who was free of all constraint.

Amelia watched them disappear one after another in their dwellings and realized that on the other side of Melancholy far from the burial grounds, there was a group gathered and whose collective sorrow seemed to draw her in like a magnet. After the last family had gone into their dwelling, she headed towards the group of sorrowful Melancholists. When she reached them, she realized that they were all youngsters, so beautiful that she could not identify who was the most beautiful of all. It was as if their features kept morphing and the one she looked at seemed always more beautiful than the one she had looked at just before. Despite so much beauty, they were full of an agonizing sorrow that seemed to be tearing them apart. They talked about their fallen friend in hushed voices and seemed to be betting on who would go next. 

Amelia asked them why it was that they needed to shorten their lives and they answered as if surprised by the question that this had always been the case. Amelia assured them that they did not need to follow what had been done and that they did not need to shorten their lives. Somehow, they seemed to believe it was the only way that their parents could live longer and were happy to gift them with their lives. Besides, they said that while they were alive, all they could feel is sorrow and woe and they simply could not live with such a heavy burden. They were therefore doubly happy to gift their life away. Amelia asked them how they could possibly feel sorrow and woe in such a beautiful place and one of the taller ones answered that behind the beauty lay the thought of the death of their parents so they could only see the death and the beauty of the surroundings evaded them. It would seem like they had uncovered these feelings after they reached the age of twelve.

Amelia thought that it was such a strange paradox that the young ones should live in a place of beauty but shun it and concentrate on the sorrow and giving their life away for the elders while the elders of Melancholy not only found the place beautiful but were also able to get within it the gift of life from their youngsters. It was not a gift of extending the life eternally like the Elixir though but a gift of just a few more years. The Elders appreciated Melancholy and the gift of the youngsters but at the same time wept the passing of their youngsters and their gift that they so wanted to return and have their youngsters healed by the Elixir. It seemed like Melancholy was indeed a place of paradoxes.

Agnes Obel - The Curse 

Ascension

Ascension

23 October 2018

Bliss 1 light of angels ucoz ru vysshaya-sila
Courtesy vysshaya-sila on ucoz.ru

 

It had been a while that she had started building the Merkaba. This was not an easy task as the weaving of the energies had to be done on a regular basis and based on a specific pattern. She wondered how it was that the Elders had succeeded in passing on this information to her during her sleep but every morning when she woke up she had a precise plan in her head for which points remained to be woven. On and on her nimble fingers wove into the air the patterns using the energy from the skies and from the trees outside her window.

Sometimes, it was also in the evenings that she resumed the weaving although it was best done at dawn and concluded with the rising sun. Day after day, she tirelessly wove the energies that emanated from her kinetic dance using both her hands in specific mudras as well as her intent focused on specific areas in space. The merkaba was to be a sphere-like construct that would be big enough to hold her whole body within it. It started from a point around the top of her head, near her crown chakra and expanded several metres above and away on each side of her body before finishing at her feet. Here too, the Merkaba had a distance of several metres before the small conic shape of its extremity ended with a cord-like construct within the soles of her feet.

Once the Merkaba was almost fully woven, she sealed the outer parts, leaving only a few slits in the front side to allow for entering or exiting the energetic vehicle without friction. The first time she had tried the vehicle on a test ride, it was an exhilirating experience, much akin to that of going on a roller coaster ride, except that one did it with the astral body including particles of the body and not the full body. She remembered the thrill of that joy ride for several weeks after the experience was over and for days after the ride her body had still felt out of balance as she struggled to keep her astral body in check.

A couple of days after she had finished weaving the Merkaba, her light body had been fully activated. This was achieved by input of a large part of her higher self that entered through her eyes into her body and activated the dormant genes within her to allow for release of the particles that would accompany the astral body within the Merkaba. The gene activation was necessary so as to allow for the mutation of the DNA that would allow her body to release some of her particles and then reintegrate them without destroying them later on

The Elders informed her that this process was necessary for her to be able to travel so far within the Merkaba and make it back to her body without mishaps as the particles would act as a genetic map reintegrating the shell that was destined to hold them, a process akin to genetic imprinting. They assured her that she would be safe and should be grateful for the chance bestowed upon her to accomplish this trip. She realised that it was indeed a beautiful gift from the Source to be granted the possibility of ascending while still alive.

Once the trip over, she maintained very few actual memories, however, of the Ascension trip and what she had found out behind the veil was now part of a hazy string of memories that resurfaced from time to time. She remembered the appeal of the remainder of her body when she had left it to travel within the Merkaba as it had remained on Earth scared, disoriented and incapable of taking care of itself properly. She remembered the beautiful blue beings that had surrounded her with tokens of love, compassion and empathy for humankind.

She wished she could repeat the experience again but the blueprint of the Merkaba was no longer given to her by the Ancient ones. It was as if this was a preliminary test that they had allowed and despite her various appeals to them they remained aloof and did not transfer this information to her unconscious mind anymore. She wondered whether she would have to seek the help of a hypnotist in order to retrieve the blueprint or at least some memories of that beautiful Ascension trip she had made but somehow something always stopped her from pursuing this for now.

Every full moon night, she would look up at the skies and sigh as the looming moon reminded her of what it was like to be in the skies among the planets. One day, she swore to herself, she would travel again within a new Merkaba she would build. She would perform her kinetic dances again appealing to the cosmic dancer to grant her once more the knowledge of the right steps so that she could build up the appropriate energy waves required for the weaving of the Merkaba. She knew that sometime in the near future the Elders would come back to her and reveal the pattern to her again as she had been feeling their presence of late. She smiled up at the moon that seemed to smile back at her.

 

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We are all astronauts – Ether

 

Children face the light

Children face the light

23 September 2018

 

children 5AA-utah-pinterest com
pinterest.com

 

 

Blackbirds in mind swirl

Loud cries’ strident pillars felt

Weight in my tear ducts

 

Soulless creatures crawl

In the dark alleys some breathe

Agony in mind

 

Sun bursts in sockets

Jasmine withers in heatwave

Known features dwindle

 

Windows carry floods

From peaks to valleys we drop

Blood from the Elders

 

Crimson my waters

Morrow’s seasons shook in tides

Wavelength scorches sight

 

Dark eyes starry pools

Small hands tools of forgiveness

Children face the light

 

Reading of the poem: 

The sky is crying – Gary BB Coleman

Death converts to life

Death converts to life

8 September 2018

death converts to life deviantart com a_woman_in_the_stars_by_cloudy_melody
Courtesy deviantart.com

 

Highways will lead North

Where fog and sea surrender

Intimate lacing

 

Wish upon my bones

Call to the elders that know

Stories of caskets

 

Moonbeams grow shadows

Within heart of the meadows

Fairies live prancing

 

Hold my gaze to skies

Illuminate my bosom

Rose insulates me

 

Lightning bears a door

In between threads and the bolt

A crack reveals light

 

Invert destinies

Redress stories of duress

Death converts to life

 

Reading of the poem: 

Don’t let me down ft Daya – The Chainsmokers

Sui Generis

Sui Generis

13 June 2017

george-redhawk-13 on bored panda

 

Vibrating

Atoms of the wild

They bestow

Growth in child

The flowers a shade incline

Invite to divine

 

Brittle spine

Makes with the alters

Shift a node

In the road

The shimmer recalls Elders

Walking in moonshine

 

Talking birds

Peep on window sill

The waters

Purified

Breathless tumble from the hill

Sui Generis

 

Reading of the poem: 

George redhawk on gfycat com in the wings

Images courtesy George Redhawk

Voice of the Heart – La Musica De Los Dioses

Blood chalice

Blood chalice

13 September 2016

blue-theuntappedsource-com
Courtesy theuntappedsource.com

 

Three fourteen

Shortened rendering

Measured sigh

Breath of Pi

We broadened dainty patchwork

Fractals encircling

 

Silence grows

With the throbbing beat

In Heartpath

We renew

The old ways lost in the crude

Like trees in concrete

 

Regal cloaks

Flow from the shoulders

Of Elders

Walking nude

Revelation of the flesh

The delicate mesh

 

Painted frames

Of haunting descent

All the pains

Underwent

They glisten in moonlit night

Awash in the light

 

The practice

Silver clad moons sight

Surgical

The new flight

Precision of the target

On shores we forget

 

No malice

In heart of the child

Elm tree bends

Blood chalice

Carving through carmine lifetimes

Morrows twining suns

 

Reading of the poem: 

blue-suwalls-com
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Aguae Universalis / Canto del Alma (432Hz) – Flavia Vallega Krystael

Not at Home

Not at Home

14 May 2016

Cypresses billdamon com
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The garden

Withers from the sun

It once breathed

Shining bright

The same rays give life and death

All is in dosage

 

Drop by drop

Even venom cures

Plastic face

Renews grace

Through the effect of poison

Coursing through its lines

 

Drip by drip

The blood exchanges

Old for new

They were few

Now they scurry throughout Earth

Ants in royal hills

 

Pulse by pulse

We measure other

The heartbeat

A keen drum

Of all the feelings the sum

Muffled nothingness

 

Pace by pace

I gain momentum

Consistence

The tedium

Daily inching towards hope

While this Earth I roam

 

Not at home

Lost in wilderness

Green ivy

Enchains me

Into thickest of the fear

As I look for keys

 

Not at home

The padlock still creaks

Though I oil

Its hinges

Stealing myself through thin holes

For a glance at home

 

Soul cringes

Upon the return

The elders

They make way

Brash generations today

Their young mind wavers

 

Not at home

No lessons are learnt

Amnesia

The only tool

I chase my tail like a fool

Humourless plaything

 

Not at home

Invisible dome

Compresses

Suppresses

The eyes in all Cypresses

Giant lookout post

 

Reading of the poem:  cypresses pali-shop com Two Cypresses by Vincent Van Gogh

Sunny Road – Emiliana Torrini

Tookah – Emiliana Torrini

Baby Blue – Emiliana Torrini

Dissolving in Light

Dissolving in Light

24-25 April 2016

moon pinterest com 2
Courtesy

 

Visions bright

Etched in my mind’s eye

Unfolding

Two pathways

Sliced spirals replicating

Within netherworld

 

In dreamtime

Their contours design

Hidden realms

Where I walk

Ancient the language we talk

As you ride by me

 

This dazed world

Swirling into void

Splintered parts

Of the whole

Stretched beyond Elders’ control

Lost generation

 

They watch keen

The turn of events

Guards unseen

Hovering

The wise keepers of the ring

Where all Time subsides

 

I spill pools

Diluted honey

My body

Oily tool

The hands a token of light

As suns’ rays emerge

 

United

We fly through bridges

Of futures

Crystal beams

The gate is more than it seems

Dissolving in Light

 

Reading of the poem: 

glory danielascarel it
Courtesy danielascarel.it

 

Vision of Utopia – Audiomachine

Prelude of Dreams – Audiomachine

Lost Generation – Audiomachine

Guardians at the Gate – Audiomachine

The Final Hope – Audiomachine

The Last Stand – Audiomachine