Original Composition Date: Friday, May 14, 2010
Austlin the Magician/ Sorcerer has launched the Mirror Reflection Wormhole projection spell in order to travel within his own consciousness. He has successfully opened the projection via the small round mirror like Talisman that he carries with him as his warding charm. It will open and expand outwards until he collapses into it, and thereby travelling through time to every other time frame in his consciousness that has a creative germ of truth in it . At each “time framed” location he will receive a new challenge or obstacle to overcome, or master.
Once this worm hole is opened and set into motion, it cannot be stopped or reversed.
Austlin is destined now to travel through the sands of time forever.
The first destination has been revealed to him as he stands planted like a tree in the desert, holding the fateful mirror. He travels through his own umbilical cord, into the all encompassing cord of the time pendulum, swinging, swinging forever from the dark wet branches of the blooming cherry tree in the courtyard of the once crowned and famous king Aurthur of the green floating isles of England. Here he emerges whole and intact from the sacred well, wet, and slimy like a newborn babe. He has no clothes, and he appears greenish of skin, reborn like the fertility god known as the Green Man. The kitchen maid, collecting water for washing at the well, does not recognise him as a man, but rather as the hairy beast of Scunthorpe, which has been stealing young goats from the farmherders. She runs, wailing and chanting a protective verse fastidiously, into the kitchen of the King’s Court.
Here she will tell her story: a tale that has already grown in hideousness exponentially since it’s first conception in her mind. Already the monster is the green dragon that the King must kill. Already it has flown off to raid the flocks in order to feed it’s voracious appetite. The kitchen women tell her to keep her insane wandering mind in check and her story to herself. They want to believe no part of it.
In the meantime, the socerer has disappeared into the forest where his nudity will not so readily offend the sensibilities of the population. He has clothed himself in tree bark from the soft a supple birch tree. He has made the transition into a wood elf. He will spend his next lifetime of 55 years in this place, learning the secret languages of all the magical entities living here. Before he may travel on, he must recall the words of the magical charm to once again open the wormhole. But he must be able to speak it using the correct magical languages that he has learned here. They must all be present, whole and represented fairly. Until he can perform this, he must remain here.
Already, the shadow grows deeper around him, and in his hands appears the sphere of silver reflecting light. Here, the mirror is only a waft of vision, glimmering faintly. The words suddenly appear in his mind as if emblazoned there in glowing coals. Already the 55 years of exile have merged into one condensed moment inside the wormhole. Suddenly the wormhole expands like an over- fatted caterpillar, ready to cocoon itself. Then, with no more time intervening it emerges transformed once again, a multi-coloured butterfly, wet, and ugly from birthing. It sits, fanning it’s wings, expanding then slowly into functional soul-wind bearing instruments of travel. This is the butterfly shaped soul-travel of the mysterious wizard, emerging once again into another experiential plane. Here he will learn to survive on the nectar of the night shade flowers and learn to sing the songs of the sword of the minstrels.