The psychonautic quest for the Clavicula did not open the gates of heaven and hell in such a manner that I could enter the Eschaton.
I downloaded my Minerval knowledge from the source of fanatasyfjords and illusory landscapes.
The subconscious, ocean of impersonal impressions cannot easily be crossed.
Safe on the ice of a personal mask that symbolises some kind of awareness, there is no complete freedom.
The totalitarian coercion of religious morality is a catalyst of compulsive disorders.
Or of intelligence -if you can transcend duality.
I am not the wizard on this checkerboard of life and death,
in the hall of a MahaVishnu,
dreaming up the birth of a new Star.
Poem 1 of Svaha, journeys through the cyberbardo