For Your Personal Enjoyment

I left the crowd because they were not with me they mocked me they didn't understand what i was feeling. Compassionate eyes burn but unrecognized they are inverted and they heat ones forge so hot that a pair is producing the most precious metal, shining perpetually brilliant.

Who contains the sword that scares away baddies in a glance, that carves through bad intention. Conquering fear with it's welcoming. When it's wielder trips on jealousy, the jealousy that is improperly pestilent; The jealousy that scampers off dusting your carpet with chemical stains. The wielder gazes, feeling out his opponent and through extraordinary magnetism, the creature is frozen, it's greenish black coating begins to sizzle under a steady stare, bubbling, boiling, tossing in torment.

The sword glows it knows it's being fed. drawn from a leather Indian sheath, embroidered with a phoenix & butterfly. Transformation becomes evident... what was jealous & once treacherous is now pale and venerable, almost raw flesh. The sword wains in color outside of its sheath but when lifted starts a flicker.

Stopping for nothing, arms extended, sword in hand, a powerful thrust into the heart of the creature, in a second it is split, a flash and its body is ash. The sword is hot white and it's prey has left not a stain but an ambient glow like a crescent moon. From concentration and fight the wielder of sacred sword is exhausted.

Falling from fatigue yet is grateful in his triumph, is grateful for his sword, and is awestruck by its glow. It's glow is not ordinary it is not mediocre but strong, unworldly it is. By and by, through many battles, hate, irritation, the wielder can distinguish between himself and his arm less and less and less. It's radiation & familiar quality floods his veins and centers in heart.
It has come to him through steadfastness, through hard devotion, and sacrifice. Many battles have been fought. From boy to man and man to god... A champion and his sword of love.

What do you Need?

There is a game that too often I play, if you were to play this computer adventure you would create a new character as your first step. You start at a rouge encampment where there are villagers to assist you. There is a blacksmith, a armor selling gambler, a traveler, and a woman selling you potions that nurse your health and mana.

This woman is old and appears like a witch, draped in a purple robe. As you approach her to speak she steps towards you and asks in a voice that is both knowing and deeply enchanted. "What do you need?"

What do I need? what does the collective need? What does the mind need to nestle and be free? There is something in me that detects the energies it is saturated in, the fields and the subtle thoughts, the wishes of an individual, also there contrast with my sensing of the world. Usually a response comes upon these readings/sensing to provide that which the other needs, wishes, or lacks. A dwindling couple needs a passionate love, a sad girl wishes a sweet dream, and a lively boy requires a large stage to show his success and abilities.

I see we do not only provide for one another, there is a far larger, and deeper intelligence that understands and recognizes these urges and provides, from the depths and sometimes the bowels, love is significant part of this intelligence, love always fulfills in the end. Send it out when you have it, to all around you, it can well in you and craft a fine glow, consciously let it seep into the hearts and minds around you. Let your hands warm and your feet as it flows out these passages, knowing very well you are setting the conditions for your contents to come to this unspeakable thing.

A Testimony to the Conflict the Grows and Bellows

We must turn towards building a stable conscious. Understanding of another, of ones own functioning in relation to another, in relation to nature, in relation to the whole, to the 100s of polarities we experience. In this lies a real conscious not based on ideas or words of virtue but something solid, something actually, something undeniable, total, and compassionate. Conflict grows and sprouts in the fields of unexamined psyche. Our deeper relationships with people, the conditions we create around ourselves, and the ability to follow our spoken examples can be the only judges of our own progress, not past achievements, who you "know", or what visions you have. With that being said some poetry cast down from a warrior spirit. (In need of some editing for accuracy)

They can lock me in a cage but my fear is not of death. Because every day I face it to the point theres nothing left. Satan lives within us whats unacknowledged and ignored. Its when the world is torn with conflict that this inner I'll explore. Bombs have dropped murder of hearts, the lack of all conscience. Wars are born and built upon give firm root to violence. As spiritual death is threatened most will flinch and shut there eyes. Conceal themselves in crevasses making them hard to find. I'll rise up from the dirty plains, polluted waters, with this flame. With it the meek will be ordained. With this a man will reach his aim.

Outer War is the circumference to our inner most depths. Because the mirror serves one function and that functions to reflect. You might argue that it's pointless, that the world cannot be saved. But I feel responsibility a real man has to brave. So remain as you are, next to me but still afar, and speaking of beauty without knowing anything about it. And walk your own way, with this mind full of virtue and a heart full of thorns, in this world that is torn.