The Monologue of the Searcher

 

The Monologue of the Searcher.

(A tired voice whispers)

In the lost scrolls of the Dead Sea. I found ancient clues.

Past the Holy Inquisitions and in the deep vaults of the Nag Hammadi Library, written by a King.

I found something hidden in the lost pages Of The Lesser Key of Solomon in Damascus.

My new Clavicula Salomonis Regis and an old means to question us.

Amongst ancient manuscripts and treaties, I searched.

Looking behind the lies of beasts. Men or previous pagan gods.

Through the old doors of Perception I once walked.

Clutching tightly my Books of Thoth and the Prophet Ezekiel. Whenever I fell and stumbled nightly.

But blessed be. By the Donations and blessings of Constantine The Great.

I knew I would have time. As I reopened old gates.

For like Frabato the Magician, I, too, looked for the hidden Fourth Way.

Amongst the hidden secrets and staircases of the human race.

I looked deeply into God's every written word. For a secretive place.

Where every day can be a Midsummer Night's Play.

I travelled far and afield with my Five Books of Mysteries.

Always alone as I channeled Lobsang Rampa.

Who spoke of the Second Coming and why the brain is like a radio transmitter.

And this Earth is but a World steeped and overflowing with deep Illusions.

Which merges together as this life whispers how the physical is but forced to obey Will.

By the spiritual energies of the soul.

That a soul. Wherever its surroundings in the Great In-Between.

Is as solid as you or I upon this world.

For The Akashic Records say so if they could be seen.

Men or women judge themselves. When they go over to the other side.

As certain as the reborn soul entering a newborn baby as soon as they die.

Suiciders are simply returned. To begin again.

For taking your own life is as painful as a sin. And only a new rebirth can help eradicate that pain upon this Earth again.

It whispers of why we do not normally remember our past lives. For if we did, how would we ever learn?

This Hidden Knowledge. This deep perception, I found within this ancient, once lost, conjuring spell.

It speaks of how true life is on the Other Side of those who wait.

Watch and collate within secret Halls Of Memories.

Watching in silence as our short lives flow past like strange, ethereal documentaries.

And in secret Temples of Initiations.

To contact the other side, I sent the incantations to strangers I never met to see if all that was once said.

Could come true?

And these following words are the opening to the ritual I share with you about the others.

Of what happened next when the spirits of the Dead appeared at 3 am.

When the dead used their bodies as their shells when they uttered this secret summoning spell.

I once found hidden between layers of Heaven and Hell

Lord Of The... words omitted for your safety).

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

What does the poem ultimately say?

It says:

The human mind is desperate to understand itself.

We inherit fragments of wisdom, not answers.

Knowledge can become obsession.

Seeking meaning can isolate you.

And even after all the searching… certainty may still whisper, not speak.

The “Searcher” is not a master magician.

He could be you, standing at the edge of belief, wondering if the silence will ever answer back.

Salute.

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