It starts at the centre of your soul,
that twisting turning uneasiness.
It plucks at the strands of your inner self,
the depths of your subconscious.
It rises slowly in your thoughts,
letting you think there's no solution.
It tells you that there's something wrong,
leaving you to phrase the question
The question that each man must ask
Before he rises from the dust.
Yet all that you can ask is why.
Feel, my friend, have another try.
When you think you've got it right,
That's the time to try it out.
How will you know if it passes the test?
You'll have a strange feeling inside your chest.
When this feeling starts to grow,
Nurture it, don't let it go.
Listen quietly to yourself.
Don't put your heart back on the shelf.
When this feeling is well established,
That’s the time to make a full list
Of all the qualities you hope to feel.
Well done my friend, you've learnt to kneel.
Now that you've risen from the ground
Don't forget your fellows all around.
Hold out your hands now that you have felt.
Hold out your heart, give them some help.
Now your work in earnest starts:
Cast your eye back on your past.
Questioning hard, the veil parts;
Heal yourself from first to last.
Question hard and you will find
The voice of truth within your mind.
Question hard and you will see
The pictures in your memory.
Now is the time to face the truth.
Not one of your answers will be obtuse.
Question hard is what I said.
Life and death hangs by a thread.
Now is the time, the time has come
To take your first step into the sun.
Let's make no bones about what we're talking -
Soon my friend, you should be walking.
Feel your heart-space opening wide,
Feel the birth pangs deep inside
Of the fifteen letters that form her name.
How can one ever be the same.
Oh, the pain of the opening heart . . . .
The death of the beast within.
The corners straighten now.
The labyrinth becomes a whirl.
The unfolding arms seeking out
the qualities they find about.
The rainbow’s hues, true colours of light,
mingle now, producing white.
Seven shafts of light the truth unfurls
gathering speed along the whorls.
Yes my friend, you've made the grade,
Never again you'll be in shade.
Unless you choose to be, of course.
T'would be fatal if that choice were made.
Well my friend, transmuted lead,
One more thing remains unsaid . . . .
PATHFINDER, LEAD ON
There is also a small drawing, simple and to the point
We will find that the world changes as we ourselves change. It will be a miracle.
For now i must concentrate on Hidden Landscapes, which has a kick in the tail.
The pattern at Glastonbury can be repeated at Rennes as David Wood drew, but with corrections and additions from the Glastonbury drawing.
This points out various significant places.
So, the hunt for the treasure is on.
May you all be successful.