- Sez Kristiansen
Magick
Dear soul,
keeper of time and space,
guardian of the precious people,
whose soiled palms
pull at your hems.
I know you feel the world’s burden
is yours to bear -
but it is not so.
It's up to you, however,
to take it upon your own Heart
to heal
your own Self.
So weave
your two worlds;
make flush
your two skins
and become united
with what never was disembodied.
And before you fear this magnitude of transmutation
from outer grief to inner relief,
before you cry to the hills and send for the medicine makers,
know this:
Rituals are not prescriptions
for the sacred
but small expressions of divinity
that already reside
within you.
And wisdom is not
held by secret-keepers
but in the knowing of
your bones.
And words are medicinal;
inoculations
for
nocturnal minds.
Small doses of strength
made every day to combat
the spread of separateness.
And you are not a healer;
but an alchemist,
transmuting the pain of laceration
into sacred wholeness.
Go now,
make sovereignty of quiet.
And tend to the magick
that is not here for you
but of you.