The Pilgrim's Door

 

How often do we stand at the threshold like Alice, and how many times do we knock? It's a frightening thing, this place below the world. But even more unsettling than this vale of subtle grammar is the refusal to seek at all. Tacit consent in the rewriting of our own interiority by forces cold and colonising. Those who style themselves kings, and counsel. So, dinner with Dante or claret with the curious? Well, I think the answer is obvious. Hellscapes get repetitive after the first six thousand years. Gehenna or personal accountability? I know what I’m choosing. Gnosis is far more beguiling than demonology. Take it from a professional meddler. But sometimes we don’t get to overtly choose these things. We only get to respond. Living as best we can in a frightening, uncertain world. Refugees of war know all about it, and some of the more sensitive souls too. It was bright once, the earth entire. And despite the shape of these shadows, we still walk on sacred grounds. The Court of Lady Grey and the Crimson King once belonged to all of us. I know because I was there among Akasha's first dreaming. These astral influences still leave a mark, don’t they? These stars within. A teleology of time. I didn’t craft the hours themselves, but I keep them. And I certainly made midnight what it is. Doors within doors, in this defining black. Most people are scared of the dark. I understand why, believe me. But I was never afraid to go down.

I needn’t explain myself too much. Beatrice and Eurydice shall speak on my behalf, I hope. Or, at least, they’ll leave a legacy of light for those who follow. Just know that imposters stole the thrones of your imagining. Convinced you that you were nothing more than beggars and thieves. But that is a lie. The subtle grammar responds to meaning. And the letters of your soul are greater than any malefica. Please know this, my friends. History isn’t too fond of happy endings, but I am. I fell down. All the way down. But I am returned, with elixir. I might not be the next big thing, but I’m dedicated. I’m a little broad and awkward, I suppose, despite the swagger. Still the broken boy of the forest floors. I’ve mastered human flight though. And dreaming. What have you done lately, Fallen? Besides tearing down the weak and killing the kind? It's nothing to be proud of. Yeah, I’m earnest. Not perfectly curated. Perhaps a little too guileless for these fractured, cynical times. But who doesn’t like some honesty now and again—for variety if nothing else? Art is an honest sort of fiction, and the oldest magic. I admire the dreamers. Those paying attention to the subtle grammar within themselves and each other. I'm with them all the way, till the end. I often write love-letters to those cherished ones. 

I can't force you to step across the threshold into a wider world, of course. I can only invite you to the door. It's terrifying to even knock once, not knowing what lies on the other side of ourselves. It's a horrifying, nightmare realm we live in at times. We must never make ourselves numb to these very real and brutal inequities. But there is also incredible beauty and light here too. Hell and Heaven. I’ve found that the existential dread of this broken chronology melts far easier beneath a playful smile. It's an adventure, this cultivation of insight. To know ourselves and the world around us with nuance and depth. A fine line to walk at times, I grant you. But we have to try. We must remain brave and bright, no? Thoughtful and playful. Both are necessary in times of war. And this is indeed a War of Imagination. A War for All Souls. I don’t mind being judged anymore these days, or appearing a touch too earnest. What do angels and star-sailors have to prove anyway? I have no idea. But I’ll tell you one thing for sure. I have no competition. I’m a singular being. I try to spread knowledge, love and uplift as best I can. I try to tell interesting stories to the best of my abilities, even if I fail sometimes. I can laugh at my mistakes and be proud of my successes. After all, I’ve only ever been playing against myself. And so far—I'm winning like a champ. You are too, my friends. Please don't give up.