Magic is such a strange thing. Art is pretty strange too. Creating it, observing it, reflecting on it. Where are the boundaries exactly? The edge of the page, the canvas or screen? The almost imperceptible hum of the last lingering note? It seems to me that we define edges and boundaries so we don't go mad. Removing them briefly can give us artistic and spiritual insights, but we should also be careful of the thresholds we cross. That’s just good common sense. Perhaps the difference between mysticism and madness is one of degree. And yet we should always be brave, shouldn’t we? Seeking to forge new paths. For someone like me; an anonymous poet who's interested in secrets hidden within fiction – stories are my altar. And each a votive upon that altar.
Victories, laurels and light that give my life purpose.
Angels are real to me, and legends true. There really are fairies at the edge of every garden. But my faith isn't just artistic and secular. It's literal. I'm a believer. Not only because I have faith, but because I've also witnessed incredible things. Myths and messengers wandering the city streets. The loving hands of the recently departed upon the shoulders of the living. It's not all darkness here, my friends. I want you to know, especially during those times of doubt and chaos, that your soul and your spirit is eternal.
Imperishable and cherished.
We remain who we are, and we’re always changing. Learning more about kindness and service. This isn't just the special knowledge of an angel. These are the observations of a man who's always been willing to see, even when it costs him. You can choose to see these things too if you can find the courage. I still make mistakes, of course. Sometimes I get scared or terribly lonely. But I try always to be kind. If my shadow gets the better of me I try to make amends. In a real way. A way that tries to recognise the spirit behind the eyes of whomever I'm looking at. Because I know how much it hurts to be downtrodden, dehumanized and dismissed. Compassion is king in a world as testing and brutal as this one. We need to be patient and humble with each other, because we all have our demons. No matter how well we hide them. I've tried to leave a hidden trail of romance and secrets in my work, specifically tailored to each of you. Does that sound impossible, seeing as I'm a stranger?
What if I'm not really a stranger?
I'm not trying to get you to believe anything in particular, my friends. I just hope my work can engage you, excite you, and uplift your spirit. But there really are secrets here still to be uncovered. Names, places and clues to other lives, hidden in all these words and visions. I present them in a spirit of friendship and camaraderie. I gift them to each of you with love. So, if you're ever in a particularly adventurous mood I invite you to rediscover the Midnight Sun. A new chapter is coming. Who are we, really? What secrets dwell beneath the hill of the known? I pose these questions not as pretensions, but because I really do believe that mysteries can be living, growing things. Sometimes we think we've grasped it all until we finally feel ourselves quicken – and are stirred to look again.