The pain of still-birth, pushing out the part that I thought was me

17 October

I have been divided by Lord Satan. There is no room left inside of me where the limited and the unlimited of my ascent can touch and overlap. It is PAINFUL as the one I have been dies. It is PAINFUL, this still-birth of the one I thought I was, the dark and sullied delusion of self that grew with each lifetime. It is PAINFUL now as I push her out, leaving her here in the sterile desert of delusion, offered to that place as the scapegoat that was doomed to die.

I live. I thrive. I am free. I live on as this new-born creature of ascent. I am free to leave this place, destined to travel onward and outward, forever. I am free.

6 October

The myriad pieces of my life, jumbled together like pressure plates of winter ice, locked together in flow… break apart now with a new spring… opening the dark depths below to my gossamer fisher’s line of expert placement, of each carefully selected point of intention… offered as the sharp hook of my beguiling words of magic… snaring the lifted, living gifts of bounty from their deepest, longest winter’s sleep at last.

Twilight in the Underworld

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