Sound has many qualities
It can cleanse, the wind sifting through carillon chimes
It can heal, with an exquisite sonance
It can destroy, if the din is spurious
It can open doors, with a fulcrum tenor
It can aid in traveling, if the pitch is hypersonic
It can take you to God and the angelic realm, on a deific reverberation
Horseback riders trespassing. A blue stake into the heart of the oak - no resistance. Opening doors. The other reality - go through the door. Light shining up the natural steps. A clearing, a mound. Creatures dancing round and round. Other doors opening, other creatures appearing. The celebration is in session. We are still in deep shadow my friend and I. Can we go down to the meadow?
The sky is bright but I can see the stars and moon. My friend doesn't want the eye in the sky to see him, so we sit and watch from the safety of the grove.
A man with bee eyes and antennas comes up to us and asks us to leave. If we don't go down to the meadow we must leave. I try to argue for my friend's sake, but the bee man is adamant. I get up to leave then turn back, angry. What are they doing? What is the purpose? Why is everyone down on the meadow?
They are waiting for the eye to open, is the answer. The eye in the sky is a reflection of the eye on the ground. When both eyes open and look at each other the sky will come down and we will BE.
What purpose is this?
My friend asks if we will hear the music. The bee man answers yes. My friend wants to stay. Well if we stay, I answer, then we will damn sure dance!
We go down and dance around the mound. I'm dancing with the strangest creatures - animal, humanoid, insectal, myriad half-creatures. And a wee feminine feline-like creature. Where have I seen her before? She dances with wild abandon, enticing me to join. Bella...... We are all entranced, our bodies moving of their own accord. Our consciousness lifted to the heavens. The ritual appears to be reaching a crescendo. Then the ground begins to shake. The eye within the mound is opening! As it opens a light shoots up and reflects off and around the one in the sky. The music.. I look at my friend - this is where you heard it! The sky, the blue, begins to lower and it comes down to ground level - the utter blackness of space, aurora borealis, ethereal winds. We all collapse to the ground.
Images dance across the heavens - black men whose head ornaments reach far into the sky. Another man with a head of feathers instead of human hair that reaches out two feet in all directions. Animals, more people, other-worldly creatures. The sounds they make, blending with the astral music. A primal story enfolds. We watch with rapt, uncomprehending attention. We LIVE the tale. It is in our cells, calling to us to remember. Uncounted time passes....we drink in the age-old apologue..... My friend is on the ground, memorizing, absorbing, being absorbed.
demons be only messengers
sent by their masters
sent by other spirits
sent by other sufferers
they linger because they feed
they feed on what you give
you give what you not know
you forget those primal fears
