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Metaphysics: A silent partner

Updated: Jul 16, 2023

Metaphysics, our High Priestess of the night wears a flowing crown of black raven hair, studded with stars. To gaze into her alluring eyes is to fall right through her soul into the dark void of the great mystery it self and be left there.


Without foot

Without form

Her language is silence. Translate by those who would dare, through symbolic sight, myth and metaphor. She is the dream and the dreamer. Enchanting, hypnotic, lyrical like a siren. Listen to her call and with an all encompassing love, she will lead you to crash and die against the cliffs of Sirenum Scopuli.

In her lily white hands she holds delicate shimmering threads. Elusive wisp's of the truths, of all of those in her keeping.



Glimpses of light

Impossible to hold

Impossible to grasp

Impossible to articulate

Mortal speakers of her world, blunder and grapple. Stumble, distort, twist and turn to find the words. Words for the formless world of our third world view. It’s only the poets and artist who come close. All our other Noble Knights although hearts maybe true, intentions good and quest honourable, in spruiking, fall short. For to validate the elusive truths of the third world view, is too fabricate a sacred cow in the mortal world.

Once bought and sold, followers cling ever so tightly. With such conviction.

Sweet victims lost

Willingly die

For the cause

How tragic

How sad

C’est la vie.

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