Accused and Accursed

Accused and Accursed

In subtle ways the fray keeps away from wand’rers astray

In lament lands of death and stink do the yogin-tribes dwell

No sway and patience or word-whipping skills for ponderous preaching

To make magick mindfully is the momentary goal

We recognize energy when it appears and work it

The dark shadow dances eclipse the searching glances of flashlight seekers

Worshippers of form chase illusions, taking sport for religion

The believed and beloved are a function of their devotees

So too are the accused and accursed

Kind Love and Wisdom ever naked in their chamber hidden

Every karma is magick as it prunes a habit-path

The temple is formless, temenos unbound

All emotion is energy and recognition of power is a skill

To gather, store, and emanate chi is the method of flow

Stillness notices motion, flags and aspens in breezes and sun shimmer on water

Injustice churns the baffled exiles

But then comes the knowledge that fools rule the land-cage and rules fool the wand-sage

The ability to begin without accompaniment and accoutrement, to adapt to whatever

   occurs, to shift rhythms and moods and paradigms – these be skills of fire chakra mages

Manipura is the city of jewels, crackling and sparkling

Longing yet for spontaneous garlands of cohorts in cahoots

Compassion takes precedent over mere truth so books and laws just serve to bring out           

   the sour intentions of ego fashioners

There are exiles and mere venerators of exiles

There are shamans and despised shamans

There are siddha dwellers at the thresholds

Seeth mages aglow atop and amongst twilight horizons

Yogis poised and posed on the precipice of comfort and pain

Tantrikas on the cusps of transformation

On the edge adorned with the bones of the dead

Fire and Water makes love and rainbows

Days and nights appear, dwell, and fade

Fakes imagine their authenticity and adorn themselves in symbols and styles

Silly cliques and contentless conversations surely bore the gods

The outcaste risks losing patronage and respect dwelling in the murky distant  

   gypsy camp on the outskirts of acceptability

Even the so-called shining ones give out pills to reign in the restless defectors

The lonely and treacherous mountain haunts are the only real safe haven for we

   of the diamond sharp mind of care and tending

It is difficult and uncomfortable to evade ye but we do as we must as we are what we

   need to be, we adapt to the situations at hand

Whether trickster or harlequin, friend or enemy, fan or heckler

The satire-bard judges all and his words can heal or slay as time has told

Hatred is not my nature but my mate has a streak of strike frenzy

Fire is quick and bright and hot and transformational

Wisdom-fire destroys delusion in an instant

From ore to blade is the path within the fire bath

Plans and rehearsals fall away yet training and habit seal the day

We cultivate what we cultivate, We do what we do

Our dance of culmination is our dance of days

We accept our uneasiness but we wish for a place of hidden honor for the sake of folk

The wrathful devourers of feast-dregs chase no glory and garnish

Laughter and calm ferocity are enough

For the sake of all folk and especially folk unprotected

For a thousand feasts equal no way near one small beast