Behind this Mask, there is a girl
That you will never know
A tear-stained face, dejected eyes
That she won`t ever show
Silent screams of pain gone by
She won`t ever let you hear
Broken dreams deep in a heart
That`s full of pain and fear
Behind this Mask, there is a girl
That you will never see
You will never see what you did to her
When you made the Mask of Me

Four walls I see
The same four walls
I sit and stare
As madness calls
Trapped in my heart
And in my mind
Is all the pain
You left behind
I can`t escape
The silent screams
The tormented sound
Of broken dreams
I take a breath
And close my eyes
My madness calls
As my Spirit dies.

 You know what, last night I was going thru some of my books and found a whole collection devoted to  Ben. The love story behind us is tragic, sad and wonderfully crazy, it really is. If I hadn`t of known the love I was beaten with the first time I laid eyes on this perfect creature, I wouldn`t be who I am today,I`d still believe that love was just a sick joke.

I`m not really one for emotions, that`s why I paint and write, it`s easier to express. I`ve had alot of pain in my life, mentally, physically and emotionally. I dealt with them all except the emotions, I hate them, I think they`re over rated personally. :P

Anyway, I`ll get to all of that another time.

A quick background though, I met Ben 5 years ago whileI was with my husband. Ben was 19, I was 31. The absolute moment we laid eyes on eachother, the earth moved, it was THE craziest thing that`s ever happened to either of us.

I have NEVER felt such an instant attraction to anyone, we talked all night, the whole world dissapeared just for one night, it was like we`d known eachother for a lifetime and many more before that, if I`d ever doubted love at first sight, that night changed everything.

Might I add that it was the Beltaine full moon.

Anyway, here`s the entry from my BOS

Here I go again, same old, same old.
My eyes are on him the entire time I`m near him. Fuck me but he`s easy to look at, well he`s not really, just watching him is painful.
I love him and want him to distraction, but it can never be. I`ll never stop loving him though, and he`ll never stop loving me. It just is.
The look of protection and ownership he gets in his eyes when someone speaks to me, blows my heart to pieces.
I was right when I left, I left my heart and my passion with him, it lives within him.
Every minute that I`m with him, I hold it for all that I can, every second that I`m away from him, I`m missing him.
Fuck I love him so much.
I don`t ever want to let him go.
His eyes. His eyes eat at the very core of my soul, whatever sanity I possess leaves me the minute he walks in the room.

I speak to him just to hear his voice,  I can taste his words.
My whole world lights up when he`s in it.
This is probably the only instance I`ll ever question fate, cos it`s a fact, we can never be together, we both know it, it fucks with us both to no end, but when we`re together sparks fly.

My heart will break into a million pieces again when I leave this time, it gets harder each time.
I know I will never get over him, I`m not even trying anymore, I just love him, that`s a cruel fact.
Fuck I adore this man, there`s a hole in my soul and it`s in the shape of him.
The way I feel when he looks into my eyes. Crazy.

I thought I could deal with this, we both did. And we did... well for all of.....3 seconds when we saw eachother.
The way he looks at me is as if i`m the only woman on this planet, he could have any woman he wanted, but he loves me so much he just waits.
Lee told me the other day that he`s always trashed when I`m gone and doesn`t give a fuck about anything.
I made a joke to him about it and asked him if he was saving himself for me, he looked at me with those fucking beautiful eyes and said in his deep soft voice "of course I am baby".
That`ll do me every time.
Have I mentioned how much I love him
Fuck yes I do.
I have a hole in my soul that only he will ever fill.

 

So the Christian calendar kicks over another year, 2008 years after they murdered their own saviour.

2008 years of inheritted guilt.

Oh well.

I`m thinking.......

I`ve heard of another Witch having a close call with fire. That`s 3 in less than 12 months.

Energy is an amazing thing, belief creates reality, that`s a fact, therefor the Xtian God has to exist TO THOSE WHO BELIEVE IN HIM, so he`s there, floating around as a thought manifestation, he`ll never be seen cos "they" believe he`s too perfect to lay eyes upon, but he`s there and so`s the fucked up "evil" energy they bestowed upon his thought patterns.

Which leads me to Witches, the Xtians bible says Witches are evil, they were murdered once upon a time for that very reason, so there`s still a "Witches are evil" thought pattern floating around, it has to hit a mark of manifestation at some point, so I wonder if it`s just the modern day "confessed Witches" that come to grief with fire?

I`ve never hidden the fact that I`m a Witch, I`ve never had to, my whole family are Witches in their own way, so I`ve always been surrounded by the acceptance of Witches, I doubt the two other ladies I know of that were burnt or had a run in with fire, hid who they were either as they both lost invaluable Witchcraft accessories.

So...does the thought process float around until it recognises an honest "Witchy" energy, then hit its mark?

ARE we still being burnt by Christians?

I always wondered why the first spells i was ever taught and passed on to my kids by the time they were 5, were protection spells, I wondered WHY we needed so much protection and from what?

Just by being who we are, we vibrate at a higher entity level than most, so yes one has to be protected and ever mindful of their barriers, we cast protection around those we love to protect them from everyday harms.

But I never thought about the unmanifested manifestations. The negative thought patterns directed not at us as individuals, but at our energies as Witches.

Is it an Eternal battle between the Christians and Witches?  Are we just re playing the roles we`ve played time and time again, yet in more subtle forms?

And if that`s what`s happening, then we are still bound by them, whether we`re injured or not really, we don`t count our own years, we have our own calendar, yet we follow theirs.

We`re bound by a thought pattern that beat us down, so we sit silently in the shadows and wait, lest we speak out and be attacked by a thought manifestation.

We`re not bound to a Christian world, we`re bound to a thought pattern and we`re giving it strength by allowing it to manifest into our own thought patterns.

Hmmmmm.

 

This was sent to me in an email a few years ago, I`ve recently moved and going through my papers I`d found I actually printed it out.It made me cry when I read it.

Check this out.

 

The Halloween Witch

Each year they parade her about, the traditional Halloween Witch.

Mishapen green face, stringy scraps of hair, and a toothless mouth beneath her deformed nose. Gnarled knobby fingers twisted into a claw protracting from a bent and twisted torso that lurches about on wobbly legs.

Most think this abject image to be the creation of a predjudiced mind or merely a Halloween character.

I disagree. I believe this is how Witches were really seen. Consider that most Witches were women, were abducted in the night, and smuggled into dungeons or prisons under the secrecy of darkness to be presented by the light of day as a confessed Witch.

Few if any saw the a frightened normal looking woman being dragged into a secret room filled with instruments of torture, to be questioned until she confessed to anything suggested to her and to give names or whatever would stop the questions. Crowds saw the abberation denounced to the world as a self - proclaimed Witch.

As the Witch was paraded through the town en route to be burned, hanged, drowned, stoned or disposed of, all the jeeriing crowds viewed were the results of hours of torture. The face bruised and broken by countless blows bore a hue of sickly green. The once warm and loving smile replaced by a grimace of broken teeth and torn gums that leers beneath a battered disfigured nose. The dishevelled hair conceals bleeding gaps of torn scalp from whence cruel hands had torn away the lovely tresses. Broken twisted hands clutched the wagon for support; fractured fingers with nails torn away locked like groping claws to steady her broken body. All semblance of humanity gone.

I revere this Halloween crone and hold Her Sacred above all. I honour her courage and listen to her warnings of the Dark side of man. Each year I shed tears of Respect when the mundane exhibit their symbol of religious love.