in soft moonlight, the strange curtain of clouds that part, the invisible pathways transcend the human senses, the cosmic maps embedded in places no science can reach the four magickians invoke dangerous energies. it is a still night, no sound except natures own. these are not sane men, they are not rational minds, they have crossed the threshold of containment. they have no knowledge of one another, but full knowledge. 
summoned by the universe itself these individuals are neither bound by sex or religion, politic or law. they are magickians. they have no fixed identity, only purpose.
the ritual is without much cosmetics, for in quantum magick there is no intention other than the spell. all possibilities are equal, one is invoked into being. 
four dimensional physics is the rule of this universe. pale moonlight informs us nature is abundant, it creeps in and surrounds us, it moves through us all, it envelops us and it turns us on. the energetic channels available are more powerful than the splicing atomic structural weaponry. this is a magick of creation. 
four hackers of the cosmos, insert codes in symbolic form into the mainframe. the program is corrupted and requires healing. the cultural subterranean pathways end at a cul de sac but the magickal ones cross all dimensions and are infinite.
the source code is altered, in an invisible war known to few. the magick is strong, it defeats corruption in the rotting systems, it is neither right nor wrong, it only is a technological thinking tool, a mechanism that projects intention and tweaks the outcomes. quantum magick is microscopic when observed and macroscopic when cast.
doubters ask, is it real.
believers say, it don't matter.    

strange energy current flowed through my day yesterday as i tried to fill it doing pointless things, like going to the big shops, wandering around like some sort of zombie, mind blanked out on lack of sleep and stress but underneath i am processing deeply, it all happens on a deep level, so deep i don't even know what's going down. i'm a mess, a nervous wreck, i have no idea how tricky the future is for me there, but it may be my time is up. who knows, therefore anxiety plagues me. have to heal myself from some psychic wounding. up against bureaucracy, my arch enemy and some guy i happen to work with who won't do any work. 
i somehow transported myself from the shops to the gnostic spot a few suburbs down the line. i'm looking at a silver pentangle but it's a bit to small although i appreciate its elegance. i'm looking at a lapis lazuli set in a piece of jewellery. a silver ring. anyway looking at these beautiful stones i chat with the people behind the counter both very lovely ladies and mention to one, whom i have met several times before, that i once gave a talk upstairs once. anyway they get my number, and let me just confess i was happy to leave it, but bout 20 mins after leaving i get a phone call asking if i would come in tomorrow and hold another talk as the person they were expecting canceled. 
i asked what they wanted me to talk about and went through a lots of things i could successfully talk about while ad libbing it. it was not a long list granted but it was impressive to me as i have low expectations at the moment. what surprised me more was she chose the ayahuscia subject, and in reflection it's possibly the least transgressive of my interests although i could tone it all down a little. 
i had a coffee or two and walked into the place and spoke about ayahuscia and they asked brilliant questions and accepted everything  i said with a respect i could only say floored me. i sort of didn't make a big deal about the whole thing, i was just me telling my story with some edits and they were cool. some had even heard about it and one asked where she can go to have some. i enjoyed relating my story as it's changed a bit, it's a softer gentle one. 
as the marriage i have with, this goddess spirit of ayahuscia. it's like an old married couple, she's still with me. amazonian goddess spirit. makes sense right?
anyways' i thoroughly enjoyed the sharing and the listening, they were the brightest group of people i've seen for a while, switched on old people.

i kick down doors, smash the windows, let the light in on the charade i work within. negligent staff getting away with murder in the government department i work at, ripping off clients, i hate it and speak out. i am told by various managers they don't care, can't stop it, that i am a trouble maker. i am fucking pushed and shoved up against a wall and in an insane bureaucracy where frank and george could only write about i live it. the fucking policy's, the moronic training, the lectures and management-speak harmony days, respect in the workplace, equality, inclusion, rights, dignity and at the end of the day the they can't fucking understand it themselves, their own policy. they don't want you bringing it up, talking about it, notifications are ignored and i am made to feel like i am the one who is wrong.
'don't write messages in the communication book'
'why, that's what it's for?'
'it's picking on one single person?'
'no, it holds them accountable.'
'that's not your job.'
'yes it is actually, it became my job when you no longer have the competency to do yours.'
i write a scathing letter to the head honcho demanding and accusatory. 
the next day i get a phone call to appear before the management, senior people who have lied to me before. 
i walk in, my first words are, i've got very low expectations.'
they actually let me speak. i tell my tale, missing out some bits, ramble on, babble on, but it does come out. they admit the situation is serious. they say they will investigate and support me. there's a lot unsaid but i leave feeling like i did my best.
let's see what occurs in light of the information they have, lets see if clients actually do have rights and the opportunity for a safe environment and not to be exploited by the usual bullies and thugs this dept. seems to enable and support more than the people in their care. 

i peek through windows, pass through doors, stand in the intersections of dreams and potentials, everything has no name here, nothing is true because it's all flux. 
flux is chemical while flow alchemical. i'm looking for flow. when it comes it moves through the spinal column, chakra activation, kundalini rising, massive hit to the neo cortex as cosmic energy shoots through into space through time. dark matter fluctuates, it's filling more space time than we can comprehend, and yet what is it? no one knows or understands it, yet it is bigger than the known universe. the physical universe is only 5% of the universe so what is the other 95% but potentially anything we want it to be, but what do we all really really desire. orgasms, cash and adulation or peace, love and the dreamtime of imagination and creativity. why not everything and nothing, there is no exclusion to experience if one is detached from what they experience. it's all flow or flux or perhaps fluxow?  

the water was aquamarine, still like the surface of a mirror, no reflections as i walk past the beach. it's busy, wintertime sun, it could be summer anywhere else. i often wonder how i got here, it feels like i awoke from a fairytale slumber, an enchantment. suddenly i live here, i'm a local. how did that happen?
the streets hum with activity, suburban seaside life in australia. mothers, coffee, surfers, everyone succumbed to elemental forces, invisible hands guide them through natural order and here i am, undercover chaos agent. i blend in like chameleon skin, an aura of unknowability, an invisibility cloak, defecting light, you can't really see me, you can't catch my angles as they always change.
my mission parameters are unknown, information is found in coded anomalies. i ching yarrow sticks are replaced by random natural vistas, a flock of birds, count them, one, three, five and seven, odd. a set of waves. tarot cards plucked from some subconscious dawn. my runes are drawn with fire in my frontal lobe. i am a walking divinatory nexus. 
my mission flows like the rivers, it swirls in vortex and ebbs through time, it is an ever shifting flux machine.
i sit on a bench and try to recall the agency, who sent me here, why this place and what am i seeking. like all fishermen i cast a line, backwards through the time flow, a delicate piece of code upon a complex cable. splash, it hits some tension and begins to sink. 
if memory is trickery and illusion it is filled with forgeries and fakes but the waters i swim in are tranquil and clear. light penetrates the darkness, the source code seeking out the mission. 
time cascades, it sucks everything backwards to the prime position. 
all players are in place. the game is afoot.