Corded Connections

I’ve been looking up energetic connections.

Soul ties,

Spirit chords,

Or bindings or,

What have you.

The prognosis seems grim

Upon these terms.

Just different ways to spell par-a-sit-ism to host.

 Or so new age wahoo would prescribe it to be.

They recommend severance of all,

Using some sort of soul sword thingy.

Forged in the minds eye.

And hammered by will.

Wielded by arms made

Of astral plane ectoplasm? 

My intuitive sense recoils at this.

As it views bonded attachment

As beyond remiss.

Meanwhile we’re all energetically interwoven.

Indra’s net through the world can be beholded.

Legacy of action through our line. 

This tapestry we can call the matrix.

Weaves through our sensorial spine.

Together we create, set, and define, our real world.

Layers of perception lathed like wood. 

Like many-things, one thing is as bad, 

As how you can use it to be.

Through excess or negative intent, 

We all know well where such dark paths can lead.

But not all fused points must act as bounds.

Tortures holding one to the ground.

Our reaction to others should direct inwards;

To the places where harm’s scars have seared into our profundity.

If our quest in this life is to live as well;

As our own soul’s are bravend to be.

Than I’d rather dispell only those silken ropes,

Dripping with obvious toxicity.

And to do that the best way is to heal my own mend.

The apertural openings that allow the snaking lines of those controllers in.

That turn others into puppets, threaded by passion placed hooks in ones gut-space. 

While we cannot escape entangling quanta.

We can alter our responsive circadian correspondences.

And pitch our vibrations to harmonize.

Drowning out,

Grotesque discordant verse of alibis.

Sometimes loyquascious, 

But other times terse;

And turn the melody back 

from becoming worse.

Clearly, depending the timing's fall. 

A blessing’s a curse, this is well known to all.