The Magician

Yellow skies of optimism and I am linked up to infinity! I know there is no time except that which we create. Creation is my suit and draped across my shoulders the vibrant red of passion, blood as life’s elixir. I stand under the arbor of red roses, the five-leaf flower, powerful integration of elements and also representing exquisite humanity. At my feet a massing carpet of red and white, blood and purity, back and forth, making use of the beautiful abundance written off as weeds–the morning glories. These were brought here by the Fool, without ill intent, just to plant something and watch it live, watch it grow without judgement.

My beautiful altar is also a workbench, engraved with sacred markings, and listen to me well: each word we speak casts a spell; each flash of the pen or chisel brings a world into being. Use your power well, and forsake none of your gifts. Your passion, your sensitivity, your grief, your rage, your body, your intellect. All of these things in harmony and alignment bring you into connection with the Great Creative Source, without beginning or end, just always.

As I stretch my antenna, my double-flamed wand toward the cosmos, beyond the external, I also root myself downward, into my body, the elements of me, down into the earth. I have the knowledge of alchemy because it is grounded in the god’s-eye-view that all is one, and magic is just the rearrangement of energies. I am master manifester, self-healer, artist; I am the shiningest example of realizing divine inspiration into tangible gold, fern, paint.

I am the Magician. And magic, according to Dion Fortune, can be defined as “changing consciousness at will.”



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Poet and Tarot Reader, specializing in Water Cartography
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