( The indian city were people come to die )


I am the Heart; and the Snake is entwined

About the invisible core of the mind.

Rise, O my snake! It is now is the hour

Of the hooded and holy ineffable flower.

Rise, O my snake, into brilliance of bloom

On the corpse of Osiris afloat in the tomb!

O heart of my mother, my sister, mine own,

Thou art given to Nile, to the terror Typhon!

Ah me! but the glory of ravening storm

Enswathes thee and wraps thee in frenzy of form.

Be still, O my soul! that the spell may dissolve

As the wands are upraised, and the aeons revolve.

Behold! in my beauty how joyous Thou art,

O Snake that caresses the crown of mine heart!

Behold! we are one, and the tempest of years

Goes down to the dusk, and the Beetle appears.

O Beetle! the drone of Thy dolorous note

Be ever the trance of this tremulous throat!

I await the awaking! The summons on high

From the Lord Adonai, from the Lord Adonai

! (Liber LXV, I:1)

How can I speak about the size of sun from here
Or the day I cooked pasta in a small village of Rajasthan
“They are not going to try it” I’ve been told,
with a little bit of hope, they eat it all.
The sensation of not belonging anywhere and at the same time to be everything.
The incredible work of the soul and the secret teachings of all things,
the tricks of the ego, the thousand mirrors on the clothes, the fabric and the thread works that speak about the history of the humans before.
(Trust your heart)
There is a way to dance on fire
(and another way to eat it too)
There is not gate or portal that is closed anymore
if you cast the key yourself – is made of gold
. On the tangible side instead- sometimes we fall,
here you wear a mask only if it serves you,
only if it serves us all.