Passing of the ages when only we seek warmth

Chances are the stars have come and gone
Dragons of lore have seen their days
but what we have left are the stories
Stories and buildings standing so high
Rock and stone tree and pebble
only the ones who live truly know
Only those who know truly live
who will seek the star
and find from what I seek in the truth above
Goddess of life, fertility, and summer
As you pass and winter takes its cold grasp
I ask that you guide those who are broken
Broken in bone and in mind to shelter food and warmth
For the forests are cold, the mountains even colder
But the cities of the world where man seeks only the death of nature
That is what the world sees now, so go out and make the world meek
Seek the pastures of green and flowers of may, for summer's time will soon come in only in name.

Back.

I'm in a troubled sleep.
Deep in thought yet restless as i switch from bed to couch
This is not my home i cry, yet oddly this is where i grew up yet not born into

Bells a ringing a deafening score. Minds of many minds for more.
I'm going deaf I scream into the black and blue walls of death that are my sleeping mind
It must be a call
turns out one from Josie Hall

Did i see a teal haired boy with reindeer antlers on today
Why yes, yes you did. i say

Caught in a rush, poets run towards me
I know who i am
as i dive deep into the rabbit hole once again.

Rawr for the rage!

I am living in a paradime
but how the seaons change this time
ive seen this all before, but not lost in summer's lore
now i live my dream with rainbows hardcore

Thoughts of many collect and score
Working together to find that fix for more
Need no rules yet bound to health
Looking for drugs or everlasting wealth

Be at peace for this is my mind
Love looking for love in this paradime
Universes expanding, folding, and more
The universe she is one big happy hardcore.

Between the thoughts that zen occupies

Is this conversation in my mind a mere simulation or can it bend my fabric of reality. Can the subjective world i create in my mind where i attune what i know about you into a form that is suppose to represent you accurate. I live in a world where my simulation awakens me to know that i have been here before. Daemon or druid matters not for we follow the ones with the longest horns.

Don't assume let what is created know that while it is a simulation know the mind has powers and what is leaked out may reflect badly or in a good way depending on what you build in the subjective(closed off) mind. Telepathy is real yet i find it a silly system. No ground rules and very rude way of getting what you want. Energy bubbles with though word action and reward are a better way of communicating rather then just bursting into peoples mind and stealing the information. Like the nurses at CamH do. ]:/

Perhaps this simulation must have a check to see if it truly is running properly a vision or vibe must be felt from the person you are talking to. Doctors have fancy words like scizoaffective i like the thought of a shared Mind. And a bubble system around yourself and your team. A reflection bubble must be put in place to protect the core of the group or the just one magic user. Eventually the bubble can add on other bubbles and more groups join grouop yets they can split off when the reflection is up. This minds do not even need to know about how this magic is working. It can be seen through behaviour and mood. For example when my bubble is burst it releases all my energy and stops it fromcoming back to me where i can collect and organize my thoughts in a meaningful way. Rather im left spending all my energy to everyone or my money to everyone and not being able to take care of myself. While i do work with 2 other wizards we have never had true communication on this plane about it. Is that bad or is it good? Hard to know we live sorta far away from eachother.

Owl is watching

The games between the prey
Dance and flow as they may
Owl watches with wings of green and pink
Never to far to hunt yet to far to shrink

In cold shadows of night yet still
That only which we understand we kill
Owl catches either or mouse or rabbit this night
Shade please take me away from this fright

Troning of Ian

Ian has a very open mind. He does not know all, but that which he is allowed to know he understands through vibe, picture, and sound. When Ian would do drugs and if he would feel a bad effect there would always seem to be a guiding light, or some kind of source, some flow of energy that Ian would understand to be the truth behind the trip. When Ian was younger and first starting to explore his mind with psychdelics Ian had very few negative effects(other then being lost witho...ut his glasses constantly calling out for Craig (lolz rave family joke)) rarely would ian have a bad trip with psychedlics for there always seemed to be this truth behind the trip this knowledge that his mind had changed and that he would view the world differently. It would seem to him like some kind of secret group of minds focusing on what needs to change to allow for a more peaceful state of mind. The mouse would listen and wait looking for that nice treasure in all its cheesy delight. Now this is different from stimulant drugs and loud music with alot of energy which would lead to a colourful bunny radiating out energy and projecting indigo though his crown chackra while a complex and misunderstood root chakra screamed for attention. This state of mind is better left in the woods or in a park where the trees concrete and stones can store his energy for the world to heal and project further rainbows to the worlds in his mind and for those who accept the rainbow of thought in all of its shades its colours and its neon brightness. ~~ Tron Kretz's thoughts.~~

Crack the neck the fingers and spine

Thoughts are many and true in kind with only chance and merry both entwined. Logic has failed and names are gone with what we have made no man shall undo. Pockets in time and trust have failed. Death has failed., God has failed. Fucking passages of the only trust that was built. Screaming now again into the chaos of this white pages as magic becomes mania and memories are hell.

Changes and chances coffee and weed love that lost ones retards and crazies. Don't fuck, make love, have sex, or release your a dumb little bunny and i will kill you myself when i am ready.

I die at 145 loved and well.

The lich lord is not me unless i learn for to make myself undead would be a test of true character. Perhaps the more insane i become the more i try to make the ones i love hurt. They worry they hurt themselves and they try to die. However i do not want this. I want to be free with them. To climb trees, pick flowers, and gather food for winter. Hardship is many the load has to carry. Sex is for them, and i am apart of them. I am the male the true male. I am the divine female yet Odin in mind. I have both eyes, and a naughty poll too. I hate retards, i love the crazies. Wild eyed rabbits mice and frogs.

Do what you want with me I am a slave to your voices. I know you will not hurt me to much if i listen and if i am good. I provide for myself yet i do not. I care for myself yet i do not. I laugh with myself yet i do not.

People think im joking people think im farting a grand jest that this is ALL SOME FUICKING GAME TO PLAY IN MY FUCKING MIND. THAT I AM JUST SOME PURPLE FUCKING PAWN TO DESTROY IN THE WILL OF MINDS..... and perhaps I am perhaps i try to understand more then what i am suppose to do.... just a pawn crying for the knight to come save me.

Chances are i'll suck a dick sometime in my life. She did for me when she said she would wait. We faught we cried and we stayed together a bit longer. Love it tries the hardest to stay the longest she can. But if you have read my stories.. we have... then you know? Love is a goddess and she is gone... we but can remake her... i know you have tried.... do you accept her... i do.... then you are married to Love... but does she love her creation or am i the God i think i am?..... you are not the god you think you are.... you are Odin with both eyes not the hanging man.... yet the wanderer.... but i do not wander far from Ontario... for they love me... for they provide for me... trust in the voices Ian, Tron, Mouse, Bongoman.

TORONTO MOTHER THAT IS WHERE I STAY. YOUR NOT SOME FUCKING DOG IAN YOU ARE A FUCKING HUMAN BEING. NO I am my mind.

My body is theirs they and them. My mind is ours steph andrew and lori. Ian is long dead as mother wails yet she does not accept my new name for truly this insane genius of magic and illusion staff and wand... fuck off you stupid bitch! I do not want you here... then leave... BUT I CANT.... then jump out of a window... fucking die in a fire mother... what mother.... the one mother .... i shall not name her for she shall cry..... there i warned you... yeah but it was at the end of the thing.. who fucking cares... i wrote... if you want better quality i need better caffine.

Trust Love and Kink

Understanding trust is an interesting concept when trying to understand what to trust and who to trust. If I am too trusting in humanity i may end up losing a lot in life, or perhaps just a necklace and a vape. Trying to trust every aspect of humanity is a hard task that only the brave try to understand. One must be able to know the kinds of people that are out there and try to understand the trust that is built between the kinds of people that need to be built up or the people that need to be torn down.

This applies to a kink lifestyle as one must trust those that dominate to not take it as far as the imagination can conjure. In my mind I can take things to a level of extreme that is both uncomfortable for myself and could be uncomfortable to my partner, my wife, and perhaps the one who is in control.

Kink and mental illness is a balance that needs to be restored to better understand my mind as well as the minds of those I love in a non family sense. Unless of course they are my care team in the kink community.

Care is always out there protecting and understand itself as it will develop more and more and try to better understand what is going on in between people’s minds and what is happening between the diverse concepts that are present in the lifestyles of many different people in the group. Some people are unwilling fathers and mothers but a good submissive has his or her ways of getting what we want

Love now that is what I am after personally but i find that i must share myself between many different people to eventually grow the care trip that is growing throughout the city of toronto.

The care trip started online while i was sitting in front of a computer wondering what to do. I was quite manic and did not have an outlet other than writing and calling for help. I wrote to everyone and tried to care for my whole facebook community. Eventually I broke down and traveled to Toronto myself to care for the people calling for me the most. I went to my wizard first who sent me on a quest to find the Tylene and Myles who were in a house that needed protection from magic.

Since then I have seen magic trends of love and care growing in a city that needed more of this, if i am responsible for it my ego would expand quite well…. so for the sake of sanity I do not accept it although even thinking that i am in charge of care is properly a little bit to insane. Although i am trying to get more out of life and a way to understand what i am trying to do in my life. Which is love and care for the cosmos and the world, although i am first starting with Toronto as this is the city that I love the most.

More Tron’s will rise for each city that needs it an insane person who understands what they need what they want and what must happen. Peace and love!

Time Travelling Rabbits

I awaken to the an acidic smell filling my nose. It burns my nostrils, and it is reminiscent of something in my past. I struggle with the memory. I can't pull it from the fog in my mind. The only thing I remember is a face. Or more so her hair. Always changing. From brown, to pink, to blond, blue, and then flipping between purple and red. Her hair always changing, as if to tease my memory of her. As if to say who am I?

Now that is question I should be asking. Who Am I? Am I this woman in my mind. No I am male. I feel a connection with her. I feel love; yet it has changed. Become more distance more lonely. A love turned into loneliness what has happened here.... what has happened to me. This vision of beauty with her ever changing hair, and her eyes speaking volumes of hope for the future. Regardless of what happened; this memory brings a much needed smile to my face. A hard truth discovered; yet still uncovered still buried deep in my mind. I try to save as much as I can of the memory, but it starts to fade. I try to pull the beauty back. I try to force the image into my mind but it slips. I am left with only the ever changing hair.

The dark gloom of my prison cell, and the smell of something.... something familiar. The smell horrible as it is reminds me of my home. A flash memory bursts into my mind. Burning. Burning. Burning. My house... my home it is being turned to ash. People look on; uncaring, as they walk by hand in hand.

I snap fingers an summon a ball of light. It illuminates the small room. I see dirty and dust covered stones which are laid unevenly to shape my small prison cell. The sunlight has never touched these stones since they have been placed here. The stones are dead. Placed by their brick layer never to move never to see the sun again. There is no door, no window, and no access of any kind. How did I get here? Who am I? Why me? Why have I been placed in this cramped, gloomy place. To be forgotten forever? To be punished for something I am not even aware of?

The ball of light spins and twirls around me. Its only desire to serve me. Its love for me unconditional as it brings light into the room, as it breaths life into my soul. I begin to check the stones on wall. I being to check for some small button some kind of lever. Anything! Anything to get me out of here. Who am I? The question repeats and repeats itself in my mind. Growing ever louder, growing ever faster. Faster and faster louder and louder the question beats into me. Finally I can take it no more. If I have no name than I shall name myself. I am Nidglonous.

A scraping sound fills the air, as stone on stone moves grindingly slow. Dust fills the still air, and a passage way opens. The beauty in my mind smiles. Her changes to pink, and short cropped. I begin to walk into the passage way. The hallway has more even stones, and they are even somewhat clean. Someone cares about this area. Someone has been here before. As I walk through the hallway torches begin to light themselves, and I walk towards the stair case. It winds around and around. At the top I see for the first time in far to long; sunlight peaking through what looks like clouds. I get closer to the window. I can stick my head out of the window, and I look down. I would never survive such a drop. I look up and the tower seems to go on forever. What I thought were clouds are really smog. Industrial City. I remember this place. I remember this smell.

This has to be the Tower of Camah. Why have the wizards brought me back here. I have already passed their tests, as the memory of my release comes back to me. This must be another test. I have never heard of this kind of test before. They have taken almost everything that makes me who I am. I have to remake myself? Was I not good enough before?

My ball of light finally dies. Never knowing more then its desire to fill my sight with light. Never knowing more then its unconditional love for me. I continue my way up the stair case, and it leads to a single door. I push the heavy wooden door open. Its hinges have been rusted for some time. Who ever cares for these stones cares little for the metal in the door. The door opens and it reveals a large room. A fire place burns quietly to my left. A pot of stew boils over top, and a bowl is in the center of the room.

Questions flood my mind. These are the wizards of Camah everything that comes from them is a test. What is this bowl's true purpose. Will it feed me,or will it destroy me even more. Her hair becomes long and purple, and a frown fills her face. I walk cautiously up to the bowl in the middle of the room. My fingers wave and flick themselves into the pattern of insight. I look into the bowl, and I see nothing. Strange so symbolic is the bowl to me. Exactly in the center of the room. The room seems smaller. It is smaller. The room is shrinking. I try to calm myself. Years of training going down the drain. As I struggle to find the pattern that will dispel this rooms enchantment. Nothing is working, and I have tried everything that they have taught me.

As hope drains anger fills my soul. The fire shrinks. How could they. These wizards, these charlatans. They said they would teach me all that they know. Yet here I am unable to complete this test. Unable to do anything. Nidglonous what stupid name. How could I have chosen such a weak and useless name? The fire shrinks. This time I catch the meaning. This is a room hope. This is a test of hope. Her hair changes to blond, as she laughs. Hope. Hope for what? Hope for the future. I have no past, but I will have a future. The test makes sense. I grab the bowl from the center of the shrinking room. Walk over to the boiling pot of stew, and feed myself. I sustain myself, as I confirm my hope for the future. My hope that I will learn more then has be taught to me. My hope that I will find my home again. The fire erupts turning pink, purple, red and blue. The flames consume the pot. Her eyes gaze into me. Her hair changing so fast so much like the flames before me. I walk confidently into the fire.

White stones perfectly placed in rows and columns form the hallway before me. Massive bonfires of every color imaginable line each side of the hallway. The hall seems to go on for ever. I walk, and walk, and walk. I walk so far that the fires begins to repeat themselves. In my mind her hair turns purple. This hallway is looping I think to myself. What is the test? I examine the closest fire. Its flames a delightful vermilion. The next fire is green, and the one after it is blue. What is the test? I begin to sort every color I have seen. Perhaps there is a color that is excluded. No not a color, but a shade. There is no black flame, and no white flame. I know how to create each fire, but which one to choose. I can create only one at a time, and I am sure that which ever one I choose will be my answer to this question. What is the question?

Every fire so many colors. Her hair so many colors. In my mind her eyes sparkle with delight. White or Black. That is the question. To hide or to reveal. To include or exclude. White light creates all color. Yet when you draw all color become black. Am I a creator or a describer. I know the answer, as it is instilled in my very being. I created a name for myself, as I created hope in my mind. I am Nidglonous a White Wizard of Camah.

I am teleported to the top of the tower. There stands a Vermilion Sage, and Picnous. Picnous smiles his teeth beaming white, as he hands me my staff. The Sage, a creator of love, asks me the final question. Who is she? She was my hope, and my desire. She was my future, and my love. She is what was. Now I am all. Now I am free. The Sage smiles and gives me his blessing.

Picnous an I turn to Industrial City. We raise our staffs high into the high into the smog filled sky. We are beyond movements of the hand we are beyond incantation of words and phrases. We are white wizards creators of what we want to make. Magic crackles in the air, as power floods through us and into the sky above. The smog clears. The sun shines on Industrial City for the first time since she remade herself. The sky clears, but the smog continues to pour out of the chimneys of her industrial complex.

Father Light looks down, and is amused.

The High Druid sensing a weakness for the first time in far to long. Sends his trees to war.

The Voices of Conversation

Sometimes there are little conversations going on in my head. Sometimes they are about me and other times they are not. Little urges to do this or do that come in contact with my mind and urge me to write, or read, or play games.

Its hard to actually get any work done when your still a connector of most minds around you. Now i dont really need to be in the room, i can do it for the majority of the people around me unless of course they build up walls and do their own kind of work.

I remember one time i was working and a voice running in my own tone commanded me to leave and i didn't know how to feel about it other then needing to actually carry out the action and leave. Now this is kinda scary eh? What if the voice commanded me to do harm to myself(which has happened) or do harm to others. Other then killing my social skills and time again it doesn't do to much harm to my own being. The vibe can be set again and again to actually do something new and try and change what is happening in my life but i'm not 100% sure of what that is suppose to be.

Bunny Slippin (Legal High)

-2 monster green cans (Energy Drink)
-Odin(Ragna-Rok) - 00 nicotine - vaping
-Coffee with coconut milk
-Fenrir(Ragna-Rok) 12 nicotine - cap with coffee with 2 sugars from starbucks with cream
-One cup coffee black
-1 amp green can (Power Drink)

The results of this trip were odd. Included thoughts of mind reading and communication with bank owners as well as members of Trip and my rave and blood families. Talk to myself/others until 5 am while listening to a radio that cannot go to any other station then 97.7 hits FM. Woke up 5:30 Pm

Things i remember:
Going on the go train
Talking with friends on the train
Going to bank group and having a good time
Touching trees
hiding weed at borderline
looking for jobs
looking for apartments
going back on train following a lost one
Phone dying
Phone coming back to life when i get home
Being really happy phone is alive

The Connection

I know what people think of me

Its so hard sometimes to try and see what I want to be. Some sort of combination of jester and lover wizard and poet. A living memory hat and all colors to mask my true grey soul. I jest i cover i hide and i peak. I pop up and shout at you that i love you, but how can i know? I dont even know you.... well i know that i do.. its not just you for you are not just one person. Like an alchemist breaking down the big and making it small i pear into all your souls looking for what i need. Like some kind of vampire some sort of pet looking for a home....

I know you yet i do not i know what is good for us but i can't act on it to petrified of rejection so mixed up so confused. I don't even know my true self i don't even know my own soul so how am i suppose to find you again oh my beauty i know you i have seen you countless times always different faces different voices different hair and beauty always... i know what i want i know the archtype i know you are there be it alex, kay, steph, megan, james, josie, amanda kassie, emily, elanor, adrien, ashlyn, and a few more your all the same to me but i force myself not to act.... for if i am the one to act then i shall act again and try and sip from all of the cups.

I cannot act i try i smile i try to help but i never get anywhere like a mouse in a maze trying to find the only other living creature in this prison of hope and false promises. I have family i have friends but i dont have connection. I lived with these people for so long yet there is no true connection no lost no found only wandering.

Why is it these people what do they have in common..


It must be the soul the true essence of you my divine i would praise you to the end of our days. For love is holy and its all i need.