Maybe magic is real .

Maybe it’s is everywhere
Maybe it’s nowhere

What I call ‘magic’ is what some call religion and what they call religion is what some call fate and what they call fate some call coincidence and what they call coincidence is what some call karma

We all have a name for it
And maybe that’s ok
Because how else could we comprehend something which is neither good nor evil
Neither just nor unjust
Neither here or anywhere

How can we begin to comprehend something that just is ?

Maybe I will never have a piece of that ‘magic’
Or maybe my ability to understand I cannot obtain ‘magic’ is my gift
Maybe ...

But how wonderful is it to understand that this is the secret of the universe and beyond ?
That it is something incomprehensible , undiscoverable

Maybe that in itself is what ‘magic’ is

Maybe ...

The eternal council
A group of black disciples
All knowing
This is why they keep going
Determined and outfit
It’s a common gift
For the people of this cycle
Inter-dimensional at a angle
They see all, They know all
This is why they can’t fall
Always been a part, Always burdened from the start
Celestial glimpses as a art
Frequency is the common key
And this is what they teach
Where the opposed are the decreased
No matter any battle or uncommon disciple
They know whats coming: It’s reliable
Their purpose lacks evil, its all for the people
And any corruption or stolen melanin
Cannot deprive the win from this powerful council
It’s in the nature, it’s a seal in the paper
It’s upon the bark of the brazen tree
Where all the demons flee, where the gifted get their energy
Like the hieroglyphs upon the source
Prepared within the proper course
It’s the preachings upon the stars
Pointing clues at who the true gods really are
Like the truth shown in specs of media
The proof of the visible dominator's
And the majority doesn’t even know her
Just stuck within the grasps of one giant needle
Preventing the truth from being see-able
And yet we’re suffocating in the air we call breath-able
And each day as we unknowingly sin
The real pain doesn’t even start to begin
From the start, they tried to peel us apart
Good from evil, evil from people
But the sad truth is: it’s non-separating
It’s like we’re all bathing in this sad little craving
Of the idea of the “powered” all behaving
Thats why they’re sad, they can’t help us
Because they think saving humanity is a must
This council, this group of black disciples
Does know what happens, while the real ancestors are laughing
Another great reason to be a part of this eternal council.

I sell my soul
for a pre-made bed
I give myself whole
for a sleeping spot in your head

I give my blood
for sacrifical purposes
I crawl through mud
til I no longer feel the worthlessness

I shed my fears
and all my dark feathers too
I spill them like tears
They fall of my leafs like new day dew

I pull out all my flowers
and plant them close to you
they will grow and become towers
which can only hold things that are true

And as my demons come for my lungs and liver
my hive heart will send all my bees
so these towers never wither
and this love never leaves

You're trying to see
what it is she makes of thee
Flesh always burning
Bones always shaking
Head's always turning
to see many eyes waking

This bee hive heart is beating
dripping with golden excitement
watch wings stripping, flight of perceiving
she's reckless with incitement
Brain's buzzing
from all the lusting

What have you done
Lord of crimson?
Where do you want her to put all these dreams?
She's near, her slender feet walk on
Her newly sharpened tongue knows of no fears

Neither young nor old
either shy or bold
of this golden crowned goddess you shall behold
in your dreams she eats you whole,
that's what's been told