Blessed be.
Velumbound.
A haunting, gothic exploration of spiritual possession, creative subjugation, and the thin veil between the living and the dead.
Written from the perspective of an otherworldly collective.
Referred to as "the Dead Ones," "The Old Ones," and a "legion. "
The transmission documents the total capture of a twenty-year-old narrator’s soul and creative agency through the act of automatic writing (writing produced involuntarily from a subconscious or spiritual source).
(A lone voice whispers)
Has Automatic Writing happened to you, too?
When I was twenty years old
Within a silent, dream-like whisper,
I heard a call through automatic writing
One dark Halloween night
It whispered
Such quiet, thunderous proclamations of my new-to-be divine truths
Be an Illumination for us, the Dead Ones
It said
For even though your world is still so beautiful, below the dark horizons of bleak despair
Hidden beneath the layers of spin, broken dreams and sad days
Where once rapturous hearts will unfortunately tear
We all wait for you
Our soon-to-be star child
of a Universe of the Unseen
We all know you still have a right to dare to dream
But instead, nurture your strength in cold days of writing about our misfortunes
Strengthen through our faith in you and belief in your conviction
To use your protective shield to always, us redeem
It's a pity your unrestrained and wondrous heart has always been yours to willingly surrender
But we now own it like precious candy with all its virtues of kindness and heroism's
For now we, your own legion, are your mighty defenders
Especially, in these days of ever-growing darkness and fading bright lights
So when you read our automatic writing text, from us to you
Be a beacon within what we choose you to write
Ignite like an exploding Bonfire Night firework
The reader's inquisitive, sleepy minds as they quietly venture
Creeping into sight
Inspire our dark hope and give them our gift of this
The Dead still live
To parade a new unconscious inward smile
For them to carry away freely, into these dark winter nights
A part of us
Trapped angels gathering the new congregation
Once held like prisoners in an all-consuming singularity
Watchers beyond society or notoriety
Using passionate words and rhymes to rule new endorphin-filled minds
Beyond judgemental scopes of any mortal kind
For we are eternally young and free
The universe is now ours to conquer, through you
Just listen for us
Within each silent whisper
Whenever we feel the need to call
Regardless of fears or complex complications
And always like a good slave
Climb over those metaphorical walls, regardless of the fall
For you are now our predetermined soul-flame
Us, written in The Necronomicon
Just hidden in the shadows
Waiting and whispering dark lucid rhymes
And consuming your soul, as each time it's reminded, it's being subtly recalled
By us
The Old Ones
Hidden behind Tartarus Great Walls
Sending out this call
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
