Spells and Incantations

 I used to scrawl spells
Into journals
And blank books,
Poetry and prose...
Now I type them
Into electronic devices
And release them
Via the internet...
Incantations
Shared on social media...
Aligning will and action
To effect change...
I poke and prod 
My psyche 
In hopes of discovering 
The philosopher's stone...
Lead into gold...
A cluttered mind
Into self-understanding...
Like Crowley,
My weapons and talismans
Are my words...
I use them on myself...
Sometimes I draw metaphorical blood...
Sometimes 
I almost heal wounds
I knew I had sustained,
But never truly understood...
I creep closer to knowing...
I share my journey publicly 
In hopes that
Random eyes
Might strengthen their own
Journey to themselves,
And that I
Might strengthen
My own resolve
To resolve...
It's all in the actions
Spurred on by intention,
The movements of the hands,
The placement of the thoughts
Become words...
Ideas transformed 
Into ones and zeroes 
Then transformed into
Readable ramblings
Visible on an LCD screen
Thousands of miles from their source...
Technological magick...
I don't have thousands of followers...
I don't make any money from this...
But sometimes I touch something
In someone's mind
While I discover my own...
Sometimes I make someone feel something...
Sometimes I discover a feeling in myself
That I was previously unaware of...
Sometimes in a familiar way...
Sometimes in a new way...
Sometimes familiar things in a new way...
Sometimes in ways that
Change the world
Just the tiniest bit...
Imperceptible to the
"Powers that be"...
I don't raze mountains...
I don't part seas...
But I am sometimes seen
When I feel invisible...
Sometimes I see me
When I have trouble seeing me...
Digging into the dirt
For magical artifacts
Long buried...
Gently brushing away dust and debris...
These are delicate things...
I preserve them under glass...
Put them on display...
Use them to fashion new ideas,
Discovering the old me 
With the present me
To create a new me...
As I will so mote it be
Is as simple as 
Willing my fingers to type words
And pressing 
"Send"...
The intended result
Is the act itself...
The constant search
For my beginnings...
The incense burning...
Frankincense and myrrh...
Nag champa and sage...
Small animals sleeping in
Warm nooks under pillows
And hidden pockets...
Gold is somewhere 
In what once was lead...
The process never ends,
Nor should it...
It's not always easy,
But it is necessary...
Sometimes compulsive,
But always a better choice
Than stagnation
Or succumbing to numb...