We’ve discussed the Hippie. Their mystic and magickal arts of give no fucks woven into art that tells stories you cannot forget.
You’ve met the Queen. The Majesty which entitles you to reign supreme over your world and fiefdoms.
It’s important however to follow the music for a moment amidst the noise of these tales. Follow me to the edge of the kingdom….To the bridge which separates your world and the road that calls all others.
Stepping down from your tower, away from your field. Did you hear that sound?
There is a music abound, it’s playing like wind on the edges of mind. You can feel it, but it’s so soft, it’s like a feather fallen from the sky, from a keeper you cannot see.
You’re walking. Following the beauty of this rhythm, we’ve now entered into a strange camp.
Lights of fires, twinkling candles, and flowing tapestries painted into symbols you can’t seem to recognize. But they are so familiar….
As you approach the edge of this gathering, you see the ground beneath your bare feet, a soft deep dark earth, Cool and free from any animosity towards your soles/souls.
Take your shoes off.
Relax your shoulders and give me your bag.
Come sit with us.
Have a drink with us.
You seem like you need a friend.
Where have you been?
You look tired.
Here, come and lie down with me.
We’ve a wide and warm home, plenty of room for you.
Sshh sshh shhh…..Don’t worry.
It’s just us here.
There’s Ama, and Aba – You know them.
There is Onu and Uno, your brother and sister.
Uncle Ommu should be here soon.
It’s been a long time, since we’ve been all together again.
But look at you, it’s as if no time has passed at all.
A question, of course. Anything for you.
Who am I?
Oh honey, I’m your friend. And You are mine. It’s been like that since the beginning, I think. To tell you the truth, all I can say – is that there isn’t a time I can remember, when we weren’t the best of friends.
Do you hear that? It sounds like Brothers drumming. Lets go sit.
Your hand is taken and it’s pulled. Taking you deeper, into their home. You’re now aside a roaring little fire. Across the flames, you can see the young son lost in spirit. Bound to a beat that is rising with the heat.
The space around you feels like a soft vibration, building like the warmth before you. Raising you. Taking you higher.
As sound and silent poetry begin to move the deepest little parts of your body. The family begins to gather. They are coming together. It’s time to celebrate.
Watch your toes, Sisters sings tonight. The little feet dance into elegance, as the she roars into royal regality, each spin she takes flairs her skirt and the stars themselves begin to get lost in the trance. Each turn gives her the years, and as she settles to a stop, Her hair is grey, nigh golden. Her smile is abound like a babe in breast but now it’s time for her to rest.
Beats changing and softening, telling and lessening, the fires dims softly, as you slowly slip off to sleep.
Here, in the Gypsies Keep – You are laid before the kind burning embers, swathed, and wrapped into the robes of the King, the Lady who weaves, kneels before you and knots sweet dreams into your locks. Your head rolling as she caresses you to breath.
Breathe. Inhala ~ Exhala.