The Blue Hills of Buddha shine
through the afternoon mist...I die to live.
The Twelfth house of darkness
is guided by Neptune.
One part of my life is spent
in “Dreamtime” and in bliss..
Now I feel buried alive, suffocated
and immersed in black soil - a captive in the citadel of worms. I have become the Shaman whose
shame is penetrated...
Written by Arthur R Gianfermo
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I hang upside down like the
“Hanged Man of the Tarot”
The twelfth card and major arcanum.
A concious reversal to truly
live on this planet.
Built upon a foundation
of dreams.
This is where the bat sleeps
hanging from an underground ceiling.
I am caught in a labyrinth, twisting
and hiding into the deep and beyond.
The other is undone with
anxiety and hurried step,
pushed back and bent.
I stop to look inside,
Where did I hide my heart?
After all
I asked, I practically begged to undergo this initiation.
I wanted to be in the undertow,
talisman hanging between my throat and heart.
I’m so far underground that
no one can hear my screams.
I can only wait in terror
to be excavated by my future self.
The Shaman whose wound is
awakened...
sinking deeper to recover
a place of true healing.
Beneath The Blue Hills of
Buddha.
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