This is why the ourorboros eats its tail

The moon is a captive of the grim reaper. As the shadow approaches the earth grows colder. He carries the skythe and she simply glows. She never saw it coming. Under his cast she is eclipsed by an emptiness that spreads and devours the warmth of her rapture. Now I am grim, eaten. Torn open from death. How he approaches, slowly climbing the stairs. I’ve stopped waiting for anyone but him.

I am listening to the inside of the walls. The low growl of this empty room at night. The moon glare on the window, a room filled with ghosts. They would have left by now but they haven’t, they are filled with me. A red light glows, I barely start to pray then give up. I hang my head in a deafening silence no one will ever see or know. On this night, the face of the moon has seen herself and grown cold. She stopped giving life. Weary and bleak, not to be though you are. Exploited and broken, not enough though it’s all. And the words are the worst shadows of all, they fall meaningless, casting only more darkness obscured by the eyes of the reader. I have wasted my life making sounds for no reason. Here I am scarring the void. So I’ll go and disappear from this masochism. I will lose the depth of my loss all I held. It was nothing but a memory’s dust. Blades of rage carving a body of numbing loneliness. It was fear and determination for a lost cause. It was not the will of God to be a slave to the devil. Somehow blinded I saw from the black of the lie I was eating and I fell to the bottom of me, starving and searching for food. There was nothing there but my imagination, seducing a morbid self imposed torture…all these years. The wrong sort of pain that is only for show. But now it’s real, now you’ll not know me, for anything or anybody I’ve sheltered. Drop the words and move away. I am a tornado spinning in this dark eyed mess of self obsession, self denial and yawning. May my destruction be a blessing. I shall seek the halo beyond my mind. Like a winged serpent who saw that this earth was made of sky, I too shall see that my pain is made of love.

Purification. Rejuvenation. Transformation. The song of God. The power of the sacred song. Devotion, cosmic alignment. When we talk about alchemy it cannot be a concept it must be an action. We must engage the process of the ourobous. We devour ourselves and we give birth to ourselves. This is the human blessing. The omniscience of the human is our world is made of spirals in our head in our hearts and in our bodies. Spirals that are never separate. We are capable of anything. Aging is a painful demon that sucks us into the ground if our spirit isn’t soaring within. There is a way to transmute the inevitable appearance of decay into an immortal redemption. This way is the dance of the snake with wings rising from the flames in a song of rapture.

Do not accept where you are headed. Do not accept mediocrity and duality. Do not lose faith in yourself and your power to heal from within. Do not ignore the call of your buried dreams. There is a reason you are the way that you are. It is a perfect alchemical equation. You have the ingredients within you to manifest divinity on earth. Karma means action. Action intends transformation. Consciousness expands and retracts depending on environment and behavior. Behavior depends upon influence. Influence depends upon association and other input. The choices are manifold and abundant. Clarity depends upon clear blood. Clear blood depends upon diet and exercise. A thriving body is the storehouse of light. The fountain of youth is the soma that descends from the crown chakra. This is a process of nourishing the goddess. She is the sound of God. And so chanting and dancing and poetry and art are all her manifestations of grace. The oracle is in this creative process. This is the alchemy of the ancient vedas. The source wells up from within you. Do not waste your life on reaching elsewhere. This is the path. The body is the sacred temple. Rejuvenation is essential. There is no bypassing any stage of the process. Awareness of what is occurring is key. The elements dissolve. The God light enters from above. The fire turns blue and rises. We are beings of fire and water. The sanctuary of the mother light is a place where we transmute ourselves into rainbow bodies radiating the mother light. For mother earth. For all suffering beings. Otherwise we are headed where everyone else is headed. It will take a miracle to renounce our self imposed ruts- a committed resolution that we alone must conjure by our dedication and aspiration to embody the jewel in the lotus. Not just talk, but do. Only then are we of value to humankind. Only then are we the living flame of love. This is why the ouroboros eats its tail. Sharada Devi

5 thoughts on “This is why the ourorboros eats its tail”

  1. The Dharma is the Only way….

    May all beings everywhere be free of suffering…
    May my practice not be for selfish reasons

    Practicing without end until ALL beings are free of suffering

    Until such time,
    may I be a living sanctuary
    pure and holy
    tried and true
    with great thanksgiving

    Remembering ONLY YOU.

    Om Mani Padme Hum

  2. None of this shit we do on earth matters until we realize that ALL of it matters and we are most powerful essences. I cannot get out of my way until I get out of my own way, until I see that lines no longer exist. There is great depth in the shallowest of waters and in the deepest oceans are the most shallow and more hollow that we can ever imagine. Everything that we thought made sense has no sense at all! Sense is temporary…it only exists as long as we give it meaning and stay attached. It’s the non attachment that is THE ONLY sense….it is the letting go and seeing the blur and being okay with a kind of blindness that sees only the brightest of lights. It is the calm serenity in the midst of the sharpest deepest pain, the burning flesh that is a long torture rather than the quick drowning. It is a freezing heat – a choking smoke turning to ash…. ash dust covering purity never returning…yet…
    born again.

  3. You are space and I am point.
    If it’s going to happen, It’s going to happen. Sound will strike my heart beating. Deeper I will take, the pain will rise and fall, softly. My birth will be from your siren cast long, before i opened my mouth. Only treasure, will be on top of me.
    If I must continue, let it be with tree trunk steps. Sinking into blood and love, carried by her, becoming light and falling- birds will escape, and remember the tree, now lost.
    I have a song that will not come out without you.
    The break is now and needs you, to flow and give meaning to escape.

    Return as my own left behind. For I carry your, blooming perpetuance, to lay it at your flowing feet, preparing me for the long slide that is our bond. Braided night and light. I don’t need to blink anymore, if you know what I mean… close will be felt my leaving, in order to never break again.
    Rumbling too loud to be heard. Tossing is my demand- all into the vase, see what you made.

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