Twas on a cold barren night; I lay still upon the grass. My pipe ember smolders beside me; a puff taken hours ago. I made clear my intent to the green herb, I sought the Shamans wisdom, I sought to cleanse my soul.
My father, still living, scorned me from afar, but did not impede. My mother, dearest of all, stood away and worried still. But none dared impede.
I lay still upon the blue grass; not a single muse befell me. My mind was empty of all thoughts; I simply stared beyond the Heavens.
Then at once was I shook, my body trapped and unmoving; my breathing seemed to stop. I had thought Death would draw his Scythe, and take me beyond the Gate; at once I saw my folly, I was young and without wisdom.
Paralyzed upon my blue grass bed, I trembled silently as a babe; an open door into my mind, soon the flood will be upon me and mine. From the Garden did it wake, a howl from beyond, ancient with hunger, though as family did it take me. I could have sworn, I heard the voices of my ancestors; old, strange and eternal; rent from beyond, a depth I could not fathom. Soon did I realize, my goal was near, the Shaman made that much clear. He spoke to me with words, yet I forgot them, He spoke to me with wisdom; eluded from me, yet still felt today.
I remember those days, as I was, simple, young, and thought myself clever; twas only a fool. Yet I held a bit a wisdom, I held some knowledge profound. It was enough to open doors, too many for my make. To this day I do not know, what had entered? what had left? This will haunt me ‘till my Death, upon which the veil is lifted, carried off by angels, burned to cinders by my demons. My power was not old, my abilities had not awakened; until that very night, where at once I was wide, wide, open; fearing nothing from afar, I welcomed madness to my lair.
Twas then that I was shook, once more did my breathing cleave; my chest soon seemed to heave. I left my body, I do not lie, left it cold upon the grass, amidst the Garden, did my soul take flight. Faster and faster did I rise, I thought I won the Prize. All was given, unto my soul; many bowed before my Toll; paid fairly in disguise, my sanity rent as unholy chaff; forgotten was my past.
At once my flight took stop, eerie voices now did now spark. I found myself in an oval room, with eight chairs, dressed as thrones. From my view, five were empty, from my view, two were settled.
I saw Them, Two kings upon their throne. They saw me, and I trembled. At once I knew, I had risen to their level, as equals I this knew. Truly, with no lie, I fell to my knees beside a chair; and I knew, this throne was meant for me. I cried from my knees, I bowed my head with meek, I truly believed, I was not worthy
“Teach me!” I cried. “Teach me so I can be worthy as thee!” And thus they did.
I did not fall from that Oval Room. I merely appeared, back on Earth within my Garden, in my Body; Tranquil and with calm, my sins have been cleared, there was nothing left to fear.
I know now, this is true, Hidden is that room, upon which sat the seven, with me as the eight; rightfully crowned. We rule over all, this is no boast, we are all as One, and to dust shall we return.
I remember that night, It feels as if last twilight. Forever in my mem’ry, my heart is gladden at this thought. Soon I will rise, and rise again, unconquered and forever, to rule from my throne, and give blessings to me and mine; those within my Garden, may they live forever, Eternal and not forgotten.
I am not alone.