...And it came to pass that into this time of great turmoil, there came a man clad simply and carrying unto himself little else than a harp, the likes of which I have yet to see. His name was Ahrian and he made known that he was Bard. He went unto the house of a village elder, asked lodging, and was granted it. There he stayed and he sang from the green and played the songs which drifted into the air as if they were the air itself.
One afternoon I made to inquire of him his whereabouts and what was Bard. He said unto me: "You speak little else to me but nonsense. Speak clearly and I shall answer as I can."
He took the harp into his lap. "What then is your trade?"
"I am Bard. Mine is the way of music, song, and tale. In this lies my being."
"Then you are a minstrel or story-teller?"
"I am both and neither. I am minstrel and story-teller in what I do, but I am Bard in what I am."
"I do not understand."
"Then listen and I shall make it known to you. Music lies at the base of the world. It is magick in itself, and it contains other things that are it's nature. I am Bard and bound to the music, as it is my existence. I work the music as a fine silversmith works the silver into a cup. So I work the music into a fine remembrance of the past. Or time hence. Or man and woman present. So the music works for me and does my bidding, as I in turn do its bidding in the working."
"You speak of magick as the music and music as the magick. Which is it then? Is music the cause of the magick, or is magick the cause of the music?"
"Both are true. In playing the song I am working in the magick, and in working in the magick I am drawn to work a song. Such is my call."
"What of tales then?"
"They are great and beauteous. In splendor they cannot be equalled, for the Gods run thru them as the maids run through fields of grass in the Spring."
"What Gods are these of which you speak?"
"All Gods to some, and none to others. It is as you see. And then it is as it is."
"What of these do you worship?"
"I worship none and I worship all. I worship not, and devoutly pray unto the Muses. Mine is not the way of the zealot, but of the song."
"How then do you work your magick if the Gods are not yours?"
"Ahh, but they are mine. I do not see the Gods as they appear to others, but as they are in the song of a bird in summer, or a stream in the Spring. My magick is not of them, but is them of their essence. It aids them to survive and pierces their nature as the light pierces the darkness."
...And so I bid him let me rest, that I might ponder and inquire further on the morrow. As I left him, I heard a sweet melody drift into the hollows...
iTunesBette Midler - The Rose
SONGFACTSThe Rose
10-21-07 - Heaven & Hell - Chapter 57
10-14-07 - The Most Holy Trinosophia
10-08-07 - Breaking the Authority of the Bastard Curse
09-30-07 - Silent Teachings and Sat-sang
09-24-07 - The Right to Ignore the State
09-16-07 - Edgar Cayce Akashic Records
09-03-07 - Life and Teachings of Hermes Trismegistus
08-26-07 - Science Fiction, Wars & a Meaning to Life
08-19-07 - Plato's Science of Maieutic Psychagogy
08-12-07 - The Lightning and the Sun
08-05-07 - The Uses of Disaster:...
07-30-07 - Those loving bonobos...
07-22-07 - The Days of Noah
07-15-07 - Terror Attacks & Protecting Infrastructure
07-08-07 - Science the Destroyer
07-01-07 - Protocols of the Wise Men of Zion
06-24-07 - Nihilism: The Question of Truth
06-17-07 - Earthly Lesson of Jesus' Crucifixion
06-10-07 - Lyrics: Shrunken Heads
06-03-07 - Eugene Debs 1918 Anti-war speech
05-28-07 - Freedom from Experiences
02-10-07 - Arcana Coelestia n. 9407
02-04-07 - The Crowd, by Gustave le Bon
01-27-07 - War of Assumption
01-21-07 - New Types of Weapons
01-14-07 - Chaos and Terror
01-09-07 - Helen Keller as Mystic