The Tower

In almost no time at all my life has gone from a symbol of perfection, to a system that is rotting through so bad it is no longer stable enough to hold itself together; and it is only doing so by chance.
I can feel The Tower in my Tarot dancing along the corners of my path.
I am in the mood to welcome it.
Yet a mood is just a mood, simply an emotion slipping through for a moment in time; although important that moment is.
This particular mood is one that holds more significance than most others in my life. It is the huge turning points that this one relates to, ones that bring me to higher plateaus and new energies.
It is very difficult to simply let this mood pass with out my heart churning towards its destination.
Even were it to bring about some initial disappointment or heartbreak, it would maintain its worth.
It would signify the ultimate breaking of chains, the demise of loyalty to petrified opinion, the quintessential freedom that my experience has finally brought me to.
It would be the greatest love of self that I could demonstrate.
In many purposes, I deem it necessary, but I merely continue to wait in the twilight. The circumstances and experiences I have gained are greatly treasured, and a whimsical wind of doubt tells me I should not act so foolish. How could I give up such gold and call myself intelligent? How could I deny the abundance in family I have gained through this long experience?
How could I end such a thing, when I have never done an ending right in my adult life?
It is the most magnificent crashing, an awesome apocalypse, that I should hold on so dear to, and yet despise so much of my everyday life.

The Kali Warrior

Another drunk conquistador wanders the slippery slopes of the third dimension. The wide expanse of earth is nothing short of exploited resources, poisoned water, and contaminated food. The common folk have become sterile, lethargic, and sedated. No longer can one expect truth to stand up to reason. Dialectics and rhetoric have become the tools of the weak, forced upon innocents by minds obscured by power. The people have become deluded by the darkness, they succumb to dependence and fear and have lost the knowledge of their higher selves. They live under a spell, put upon them by the few who govern, supervise, and guide them. It seems they are as powerless as a flock of sheep against an army of one thousand machines.  [There is great disparity between the Have’s and Have Not’s, and revolution is but a shade away from disaster] Only amidst the trees can one hide from the eyes in the sky or the helicopters at night. Only with great danger can one escape the fascist vigilance and bureaucracy. Their penetrating control grows with the people's consent under the disguise of protection.

The Conquistador beckons their attention.

"With great relief...” [He] speaks, “It seems to me the digression of mankind in this age is a veiled blessing."

To Be Continued...