Welcome to the Worlde of a Fated Fey, one who walks the Shadows between the OtherSide and this Dreamland. This is the Book of Shadows of a hereditary and self-taught Magickal Woman; a Dreamer who possesseth the lineage of Fae, Wytch and Starr Blood. Interwoven together to make an ecclectic source of Magick and Chaos. To walk between the Worldes of the Starrs, the Hidden Realms, the Spirit Worlde and to also Live a human life...
Monday, September 12, 2011
The madness of Lord Byron...
haunted Dreams of being Annesley.
This is the story to end the Haunting
Visions in my head and voices from the Dead
A long time they have been waiting
along the course of the ebb and flow of Time
that goes Forever by.
Waiting, Waiting, Waiting
For the one who completes the Circle.
The Dream was the poem, the verbatim that has made family hystory and generational haunting true, for me anyhow. The realisation of how one's Dreams, one's ancestory, one's Blood can be tied to the realm of public display and hystory. Teetering on the brink of the madness of Byron and his love for a Lady who's blood runs with a touch of my own, my own veins thrive with the words wanting to be brought to Life. Poetic passion and a mind not unlike Byron's. Is that why they touch upon me, the spirits of an uneasy rest? The fact that I can See and hear the wordes, as like Mary Chaworth, I too am also touched with the Sight. Byron was madly, and once unrequitedly in Love with she who's mother shared my own name. At some stage, our three Bloods doth intermingle.
They will not rest 'til theyr tale is told and finished. As Lord Byron in death and once in Life, his very selfe has to express the poetry of his Heart and let all and sundry know his Love is now complete.
...And out of Madness and Eternal Loneliness you call Life
And from the Foreverness and Freedom you call death
It is Greater than that which you call Life
It is Love...
Love is my Reward, which is my Magickal Birth Right...
Written by Lord Byron, at the Hills of Annesley; the ancestral home of my family.
It is very important to me this beautiful poem, not just because of where it was given creative life, but because it was written about one of my ancestresses, Mary Chaworth the True Love of Lord Byron. It explains of her demise within the apparent throes of madness of having the Sight, and being fey; hopefully not for me, but I am ever aware of the risks of the Other Worlde. After her lonely death in Annesley Hall, Lord Byron finally truly learns the Secrets of Annesley Magick.. It is said it was written about my relation long ago, but as it is called The Dream, what if it was about a future Dream... of Me?
… but the look
Which is not of the Earth; She was become
The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts
were combinations of disjointed things:
And forms impalpable and unpercieved
of other's sight familiar to hers...
… and made him friends of the mountains; with the stars
And the quick spirit of the Universe
He held his dialogues; and they did teach
to him the magic of the mysteries:
To him he book of Night was opened wide,
and voices from the deep abyss revealed
A marvel and a secret- Be It So.