Pulling back the fibres of logical doubt from my mind, entering the crystalline corridors once more. To forget the part I play in the human game; adopting the ancient sage of a timeless realm; becoming the memory; adapting my mind into that form; to see that what I may see once more. Perhaps the road ahead which the human must tread; maybe something less, maybe something more. But whatever, I report it here so when I grow weary of this and return back to my participant in the game, I will read this ... but needless to say I will not understand what I grasp now as in this universe of pictoral representations I exist; in the wonder of what could and what may be I float. Aye, I doubt he will truly comprehend what I relate:
I comprehend first there are restrictions around and further restrictions ahead. His thoughts, his thinking and his vocal representation cause the ripples in the pond which are the rift between failure and achievement. What he bears in his hand as Kind Of Wands is suffice to achieve. Its combination must be adjusted and applied in a different manner. I see the growth of acorns of success ahead of the background tapestry of worldly chaos and destruction. His fire must burn; be seen in his eyes; single minded he will achieve alone if he can grip then grasp what it is he bears in his hands. Nobody else will say so he cannot gain the answer by asking around. The answer lies within; with the likes of I and the other nameless forces within. For there are many. Separate and part thereof. Colours are significant. Earthy shades of green; of ochre ....
Intensity of the genie within his dreams can make his ideas grow; hatching birth from one solid idea. Reprogramming his consciousness ... will break the genie from the bottle; for it is own thoughts of restriction which prevent wishes from becoming granted. His horizon stands bleak to be made to feel the sunlight again. The Nine Of Wands represents the realised dreams.
In his dream epics he senses he is the shackled Knight with albatross hung around his neck; within a bubble mould he is unable to break. Eternity his boon currently the curse; time is his gaoler as he watches the hours become days become months with nothing changing; only the slide becoming steeper. He grows more miserable each and every human day. He sees he is the curse; he is the ancient mariner with the albatross to remind him of his failings; all of his mistakes. He carries them too close to heart. What can break the mould? To see the albatross aloft and set the genie free?
In creative phase he sees the road ahead; the twisting path where the tinker peddles its trade and earns a wealth which the Knight knows has been decreed. The child approaches carries the tools; sees what it has produced to date ... realises the verification is for its own gratification. To become the tinker, the child must make some effort; have an intention. Create the dream. Without the dream the reality cannot be sustained by the thoughts. He bears not the linking thoughts. How can he find the linkage in time?
The pressures of financial permutation; the Two Of Pentacles; the survival in the material world. The weight on his shoulders. The stress; the curse; the baleful demon which hunts him during the mortal day and devours creative expression and ambition. That which he must master somehow.
I foresee the alchemy. The mastery. The wise elder practising a forgotten art. Merging it all. The cohesion shown by the Three Of Wands. It is in plain sight but not seen by he with limited 3rd density five senses. But I with greater vision than he sees the merging and the reasoning. I anticipate another abode; another place with windows overlooking the sea. With helping hands and eager mage wishing to gain mastery of him; to grapple the abilities he overwhelms the world with. An unscrupulous soul will link to try to gain advantage; the tonic he has a need for in this reality. To provide sequence to the colours and an understanding which he has to date not seen in plain sight around him.
Competitive edge; contention; the clashing of minds and the cohesion of forces to create a greater force. Ahead or beyond; I see this but know not how or why ...... but I just know I have created those thoughts for the form to take shape. I work with furious pace to bring an end to the suffering; to rid the mortal of the curse of the albatross; to change his mind on the expressions of martyrdom. Nothing has been lost; nothing has changed; no corner has been turned for he walks a clear straight line .... ....
