It’s burning man season!
Every year i tell myself ‘I won’t be coming next year, for sure.’ And yet so far, I keep returning to that place. Desert people! Furry, dusty, messy, sexy, shipwrecked coconut-hearts: I decided I won’t be coming home this year. So I wrote us a little poem:
Blow a warm dusty smile my way
On a Saturday, when the fire dances and Man falls down in flames,
When blazing ashes rain down on the thousands of you.
Blow a glittery silent kiss my way
On a Sunday night, when all your whispered songs in the temple fly up,
To the wishful fire-lit skies.
Do hug the light, and the night,
And that fire-spitting mean-old octopus,
Scream at him for me:
‘I’ll see you next year!’
Maybe I’ll have goosebumps,
Maybe pink flamingos will come flying by,
And maybe they’ll have some coconut ice-cream..
Certain superficial mistakes I can tolerate. But when it comes to the timeless values such as honesty, authenticity, loyalty, humanity, gratitude, justice, and politeness, and self and other respect, I am very much radical.
You can violate ideas, pretend to have the know-how, but don’t go fooling yourself thinking that you have access to the primal inspiration. You can steal life but don’t go believing that you have the breath for it. You can acquire high knowledge and epic beauty without necessarily coming to fruition. So don’t go acting out loud that any of it is of use to mankind, or glory to the Beloved without the disciplines needed to make the gold.
These disciplines start with me and you, who understand, accept and practice the above.
‘All that call themselves alchemists are not therefore necessarily true possessors of the Stone. For, as in other branches of knowledge, there are found many different schools and sects, so all that are in search of this precious Tincture are called alchemists, without necessarily deserving the name.’
‘Do you know what turns darkness into light? Poetry.’
A beautiful reprise of the 1950’s French Artist Renaud‘s original Mistral Gagnant