Don’t fear it. Shadow needs a friend. Respect gets respect. Play, give love, feed him something small and tastey. Let him calm down. Don’t get walked on, but give him ample patience. Never lash out at him. He’s never seen real joy, or love, or compassion. Be gentle, and show him shiny things, and be his friend. That’s all he wants. Fear has no place. Both sides create beauty, we all strive for beauty. And if you can reconcile Shadow with Self, if you can build those bridges in friendship, then the best things will come of it.
July 27, 2009
Shadow and Thunder
Running through my life in twisting raging helix pattern,
with sudden outbursts and long waiting dragon stealth,
It’s all hot short malicious disconnected gleeful loathing.
It must be supposed not as idle coincidental manifestation.
This is Shadow. He brings Thunder. He roars lightning.
With him unbound and rolling, you must face yourself again.
No longer docile child making bread and looking down, no,
No more muted unspoken softly and confused mild boy,
This is the boy who walks confortably in terror, all claws;
This is the white-eyed boy in the static sandstorm, washed out
and furiously happy, like an all-consuming glee which knows
no limits has him dancing trouncing by the ears and snear.
His story isn’t yours, but his story is not-yours, and you tell it.
This is another storyline in your life. This is the Dark. This is.
It is, too, and you always knew it was. It’s -so- ironic, isn’t it?
You tell -his- story too. The Dark Sun crawls across his solid
starless sky, misty roads worn craggy, shifting ground paper dead.
He wears his way through the world, a joyous whorl of terror and death,
Annihilation, deconstruction, decomposition, disintegration and pain;
Uprooting, taking, unsexing to the soil, past the greater forms of life.
You know his gnosis, seething fast and torrid, bleaching the ground -with pleasure-.
Bleaching the ground fucking dry. In momentum you are unstoppable.
Immobile, purest incapable misery. He holds the white-eyed curse.
He will take the ground away. And terror will consume the land.
And the whiteness will consume everything, up to the highest high
and beyond, past the blackest black, till there are no more eyes to see.
With him unbound and rolling, you must face yourself again, boy,
Oh! you must face yourself again. And to succeed you must kill a man again, boy.
You must kill a man, again.
Do you smell him yet?
He smells like blood.
Gimme a grin, child…
Gimme a grin.
