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.
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