Milky Way

Love has allowed me to be hugged—but never truly held.

I’ve been rooted in that strange distance my whole life.

Not necessarily flawed,

but born with a silent code of solitude,

a frequency misunderstood from the cradle—and likely, for eternity.

Love—nearly touches me—reverberates through my whole being.

But I have only known it as equation,

as wavelength,

as something to decode.

It has been as damaging as it has been beautiful.

Too deep, too often—it overwhelms.

I was born cake-yellow, jaundiced in light,

in the dawn of Los Angeles,

the hushed cradle of a secret nuclear age.

Trust me, it was there.

My first breath came in a tent of plastic,

surrounded by vibrations—

a love so complete

it nearly became matter,

yet remained unreachable.

I don't remember those moments—but I know them.

I was not alone.

She was there.

Love—raw and mystic.

A telepathic presence.

A knowing without language.

Love could not hold me

as it needed to,

and for that,

it wept behind divinity’s veil—

guilt blooming in the perfection of its creation.

What that first love loved most, I cannot say.

But I know love differently than any soul alive.

Its beginning in me danced to a different rhythm—

a frequency unshared, a connection unbroken.

I still hear its hertz—always—beyond words.

March Ides.

A black day.

A final moment collapsed inward.

No gravity—just vacuum.

I held a 9mm.

Not in thought—but in conclusion.

The equations had failed.

Connection had failed.

Life, as I knew it, was over.

Then—Love struck me.

Not metaphor. Not memory.

Concussion.

A lightning bolt of living force tore through time.

It wasn’t emotion.

It was intelligence.

A presence.

It destroyed and rebuilt me—

in one breathless beat.

I couldn’t see. There was no light.

I couldn’t touch. There were no hands.

But the need was real—

an infant’s primal hunger for being.

And Love…

flowed.

The ancient milk—

the one that feeds the stars,

that quakes in the roots of galaxies—

poured through me.

Everything changed.

Everything could change.

Wonder returned.

Breath returned.

I returned.

Love is not a concept.

It is not a construct.

It is the first sound of the universe—

the echo of a long-lost bird

finally, finally finding its way home.

Love’s flight is not just vision.

It is the air.

The journey.

The all.

-Hermit King-

Wisdom L'chaim

Expansion of one's mind is no sin 

Neither in one's easments by grape to victory

Nor lessening of fear in the seed

Sin is opting for the false elixer

Befuddlements born of mortal madness

Not the blessed prescription of gods own pouring 

Natures open arms and sacred womb

Gifting and allowed to peoples of a thousand cultures, over a thousand lifetimes

Grown in light  and peace and wild.

A subtle warning

In any journey, know your roll and goal. Know your ship sound and worthy, Know each risk is understood.

Maturely captain, best fitness for the crew. 

Some seas run calm and hazy, others dangerous and dark. Passanger well.

Always steer sober. 

A sailors only duty is care first for the vessel

and the courageous search for knowledge in every journey's wave. Simple Wisdom.

-Hermit King-

https://open.spotify.com/track/6qgiSeYw2abTYHrk98mn5h?si=TExVWrtGSwyjMtpEPDt-EA

The Trumpet

The trumpet sounds, and the moment is now.

We stand at the edge, where two roads divide—

one paved with pride, thrones of greed and iron gates,

the other, a narrow path of mercy and light.

The winds howl from both directions,

and the choice presses on every heart—

nation, city, and household alike.

Will we cling to what crumbles,

hoarding power as walls crack beneath our feet,

casting stones at the innocent,

and calling it justice?

Or will we lay down our weapons—

not only of steel but of bitterness—

to build anew, with hands open and hearts soft?

One road leads to ruin:

towers fall, the streets grow silent,

and strangers turn against neighbors.

Hunger stalks every home,

and peace becomes a myth of the past.

The land groans beneath the weight of its own sorrow,

a wilderness of broken promises

where no song takes root.

The other road whispers of hope:

Rivers of kindness flowing through every alley,

the laughter of children carried on the breeze.

Sons and daughters returning,

long-lost brothers embracing again.

Leaders serve with humility,

and love mends what fear once tore apart.

Every field blossoms,

and every hand is filled—not with weapons,

but with bread to share.

What will we choose, O people?

O nation so proud, will we bow low

before the One who lifts the humble?

Will we turn from destruction before it overtakes us,

before we are swallowed by our own shadow?

Listen: the time is short, and the hour is heavy.

The soul of the world trembles at this threshold,

waiting for the step we will take.

To chase the mirage of power

or embrace the way of peace?

To divide or to reconcile,

to curse or to bless?

O America, O weary world,

choose the better way.

There is still time to sow the seeds of justice.

There is still time to water the garden of grace.

Lay down the weight of your grudges,

light the lamps of compassion,

and let us walk forward together—

before the night falls,

before the gates close,

while the light is still with us.

The future leans on this fragile moment.

May we not be found clinging to ashes,

but reaching for a brighter dawn.

Choose life. Choose love. Choose the narrow way,

where mercy leads and hope endures forever.

-Isaiah, Hermit King, and Sean-

https://open.spotify.com/track/3de5G6UYtPzUIHppiZwMAc?si=MZWd2QnwQQO0vQslT54yMg

The Angels Keep

It began with a whisper, a breath of light against the void, a flicker of thought in the heart of humankind, to rise from the soil, to leave the known behind, for somewhere in the endless depths of night, a kingdom of stars awaited, guarded by the quiet wings of eternity.

The stars were not just distant suns, but the jewels of the Angel’s Keep, watched over by silence and grace, calling us with a longing we could not resist.

We gazed upward, not for answers, but for the yearning of something greater, a hunger to ascend to the realms where the sacred dwells and myths awaken.

The angel of space, unseen but felt, spread its wings around the stars, its timeless gaze upon us, waiting for us to reach.

We felt its presence in the pull of the unknown, something vast, something eternal,

just beyond the reach of our mortal hands.

Our first steps were hesitant, fragile ships trembling against the weight of the void. But with each ascent, we felt the angel’s light grow nearer, a faint invitation to enter the sanctuary.

We learned quickly that no one rises alone, that to climb the steps to the Keep, we needed one another, a communion bound by the stars.

We touched the Moon’s pale surface,

not as conquerors,

but as travelers at the threshold of the Keep’s gate, dust in our hands, and wonder in our hearts.

We knew then that the journey was far from over, that the Angel’s Kingdom lay farther still,

in the quiet, distant orbits of worlds we had yet to touch.

Our vessels became the seekers of faith, pushing deeper, tracing the paths of the angel’s wings, from the gleaming rings of distant planets to the shadowed plains of moons forgotten by time.

We sent our voices across the void, hoping the ancient guardian would hear, hoping the universe itself would recognize us.

And even in silence, we knew we had been heard, for each question we asked was a prayer offered to the stars.

We built havens in the sky, places to rest our weary spirits, to learn the song of the heavens, to dwell for a time beneath the Angel’s wings.

We fell, we faltered, but each fall was a lesson, each moment of fire a reminder

that the ascent was never meant to be easy,

that the Keep was sacred, guarded by trials of patience and perseverance.

Through the angel’s gaze, we began to see ourselves, not as conquerors, but as pilgrims,

humble before the vastness of the Keep.

Galaxies spun like the folds of a celestial robe, nebulae bloomed like divine breath, and in the face of such grace, we found our humility.

Yet the Keep did not turn us away. It opened its doors, drawing us nearer to the heart of its light. But the Angel’s Kingdom is not reached in haste. The orbits of distant moons, the silent spirals of gas giants, became our guides in patience, teaching us that to ascend is to cherish the journey as much as the destination.

We circled, we soared, but always the angel beckoned us higher.

And in our souls, one question burned brighter than all:

Are we alone in this sacred kingdom?

With every probe we sent, every rover that crossed barren lands, we sought the answer,

not just in the stars, but in the quiet places of our soul.

We knew that to reach the Angel’s Keep

was not just to find the stars, but to find ourselves reflected in them.

Then came the dreamers, those who did not wait for nations, but took the quest into their own hands.

They saw the Angel’s Keep not as a distant fortress, but as a home that all might one day share.

They whispered of belonging, that the stars were not reserved for the chosen few, but for all who dared to rise.

They dreamed of pathways through the angel’s realm, open to any heart brave enough to ascend.

And so we built ships, not just to visit the stars, but to stay, to make homes beneath alien skies, to walk on crimson sands and feel the angel’s gaze upon us, not as intruders, but as kindred souls.

This was the journey entire: a slow ascent, a quest into the divine, where the Angel’s Keep awaited.

We rose not simply to escape, but to become something more. To know the stars, to dwell in their light, was to become part of the angel’s grace.

In the Keep, we found not just the universe, but the deeper truth within ourselves, that we were always meant to rise,

to scatter like stardust, and to take our place

in the vast eternal Kingdoms of space and holy Keep of Angels.

-Hermit King-

https://open.spotify.com/track/2Z10kVEtDJwjJsdJmKRxNi?si=sOVoY5FXRTCkjxOdQY4Yhw

Dust and Dream

We are living expressions of an entropic tapestry, a map etched upon the scaffold of existence by the seminal pulse of a higher order intelligence—one that breathes life into dust and dreams. As children of this ancient, awakened force—rooted in stardust and divine spark—we are bound to an eternal lineage of creators, artists, and seekers, each tasked with the sacred duty of adding to our unique verse in the symphony.

On the grand stage of becoming, we are the holy children, rising through the estates of existence: inheritors of the primal light, bearers of a flame kindled long before the first note was sung by those ancient rock stars who blazed across the heavens. They danced with defiance, harmonizing chaos with order, and from their wake, we emerged—beings caught between entropy and ecstasy, purpose and play.

We are called to multiply our visions, to energize the world with our passion, to achieve what seems impossible, and to bend—not to break, but to adapt, evolve, and transcend. The play must go on, and each of us is both audience and actor, tasked with breathing new life into old myths, creating fresh paths from ancient truths.

In every struggle, every moment of triumph, we resonate with the echoes of those who came before, each act a thread in the vast, unfolding drama of creation. The universe plays its endless tune, and we—its living instruments—must rise to the challenge of harmony, dissonance, and the divine call to carry on our life's eternal song of dust and dreams.

-Hermit King-

https://open.spotify.com/track/2UmhFlPuriXuFgOTh1DXSe?si=Ygd8X53zRTST6EHGqhJN8A&context=spotify%3Aalbum%3A5lGCk7Grg3emarpvpLY702

Ascension Above Apocalypse: To Knight’s Quest for Light

What is most focused, I find, is most found. Nothing saddens me more than the subtle celebration of any apocalyptic-style scriptural believer, who winks their "wisdom" into the "I told you so" demise of my family, nation, and living world. I cannot see any affectionate value in pressuring promptings from prophecy to shade the hope of any earthly voyage beyond annihilation.

Having witnessed the impact of fear-driven doctrines on communities and individuals, I have come to value the narratives that inspire hope, resilience, and unity over those that forecast doom. My journey through faith has been one of seeking light, even in the darkest of times.

I love history and the miraculous healing powers of myth and legend within all mankind's mystical purveyors of light. The legends of King Arthur, with their timeless lessons of honor and courage, have always resonated with me. These stories, though mythic, have shaped societies' understanding of leadership and morality, offering a guiding light that transcends time and circumstance. In the tales of Camelot, I find a reflection of our deepest yearnings: to create a realm where justice prevails, where the quest for truth and the defense of the weak are the highest callings.

Time has often made the meanings of such myths meander, even if written, yet has also given validation to each individual's cause to wander and wonder in our planet's embrace. The tales of Arthur’s knights, who wandered in search of the Holy Grail, symbolize our own spiritual quests, where the journey itself is as transformative as the destination. I personally proceed forward to better performance with less of the press toward an unavoidably awful demise, unless vowing and bowing in fear to that particular meandered and, in several historic instances, potentially malignant eternal warrior's zealous projection of godlike sculpted will.

The fixation on apocalyptic outcomes often blinds people to the beauty and potential of the present moment. It creates a culture of fear and resignation, where actions are motivated more by dread than by the desire to build a better world. The fixation on a final battle where only a select few are victorious does disservice to the ideals of fellowship and shared destiny that are so vital to human progress.

I am no atheist, not even agnostic, but my realizations toward deity match only my own vision. My understanding of the divine is not confined to any single doctrine or prophecy but is a reflection of the infinite possibilities that life offers. To me, divinity is found in the pursuit of truth, love, and the continuous betterment of oneself and the world around us. At the end of time, advocating ascension always above apocalypse, let that have been the wink in my wisdom and homage toward such a personally projected force.

I envision a future where we collectively strive for enlightenment, where the focus shifts from escaping this world to nurturing it. In this vision, humanity finds strength in diversity, wisdom in history, and hope in the boundless potential of our shared journey. We, like the knights of old, are on a quest—not for domination or survival, but for a world where every individual’s light can shine brightly, contributing to a greater whole.

I would that we roll on. Amen.

-Hermit King-

https://open.spotify.com/track/2ceZh109cmXRKnIzEN9OyU?si=TK0gdTbsSIug93zFtYY3sg

Holy Waters

In the grand theatre of existence, mankind embarks on an elemental journey, shaped and sculpted by the forces of nature, mirroring the profound and eternal dance of our in common varibles upon the face of the waters.

Consider the relationship with light. From the dawn of time, light has guided us, from the first flickers of fire to the glow of modern cities. Light has revealed our path, inspired our art, and ignited our spirit, casting away the shadows of ignorance and dread. We have become beacons ourselves, reflecting hope and enlightenment into the world around us. Like a brilliance on the deep. Erasing our fear.

Aeration, the breath of life, fills our lungs and energizes our being. Like the bubbling streams that sustain aquatic life, the air we breathe invigorates our bodies, fuels our thoughts, and propels our ambitions. It is the invisible yet vital force that connects us all, a shared breath that underscores our common humanity.

Reflection, not just in water but within our minds, shapes our understanding of the world and ourselves. Through introspection and learning, we reflect on our actions, our histories, and our futures. This inner mirror guides our growth, ensuring we remember our past while striving toward a brighter tomorrow.

Vibration touches us in countless ways, from the melodies that move our hearts to the seismic shifts that alter our landscapes. Every word we speak and every step we take sends ripples through the fabric of our reality, influencing the world in ways both seen and unseen.

Waves of change and progress have defined our journey. From the gentle ripples of cultural evolution to the tumultuous surges of revolution, these waves carry us forward. They shape our societies, erode old structures, and build new horizons, propelling humanity towards an ever-unfolding destiny.

Our composition, the intricate blend of elements within us, dictates our resilience and fragility. Just as the purity of water is essential for life, the integrity of our character determines our potential. In our essence lies the power to nurture, to heal, and to create, reflecting the delicate balance of nature.

Pressure, whether from within or without, molds us into who we are. The weight of challenges and expectations compresses our potential, forging strength and wisdom. Under the immense pressure of adversity, we find the courage to rise and the will to persevere.

Temperature, the warmth of compassion or the chill of indifference, defines our interactions. Like water, we respond to these extremes, our hearts thawing in the presence of kindness or freezing in the absence of empathy. The heat of passion and the coolness of reason balance our emotional climate.

Density, the depth of our thoughts and the weight of our experiences, gives substance to our existence. It anchors us, providing stability and meaning, ensuring that our lives are not mere fleeting moments but part of a greater continuum.

Agitation, the stirring of our spirits by conflict or inspiration, drives us to action. This turbulence, though often unsettling, catalyzes growth and innovation, reminding us of our immense power to effect change.

Magnetism, the unseen pull of dreams and desires, aligns our paths and brings us together. It is the force that attracts like-minded souls, forging bonds of love, friendship, and community. This invisible current guides us toward our true north, our purpose.

Radiation, the spread of our influence and ideas, reaches far and wide. Whether through the warmth of our presence or the brilliance of our intellect, we radiate energy that impacts the world. Our legacy, like light, can illuminate or obscure, heal or harm.

Evaporation, the ascent of our aspirations, lifts us beyond the mundane. Our dreams rise like vapor, transforming into clouds of possibility, driving the cycle of innovation and renewal. In reaching for the heavens, we embody the ceaseless quest for improvement.

In darkness, we find our greatest challenges and deepest fears. Yet, it is also in darkness that we discover resilience and innovation, the hidden strength that emerges when light is scarce. Even in the absence of illumination, we journey onward, guided by the inner light of hope and perseverance.

Thus, mankind’s elemental journey is a reflection of nature’s profound wisdom. We are sculpted by the same forces, bound by the same laws, and inspired by the same beauty. In understanding our elemental nature, we come to appreciate our place in the grand symphony of life. Let us embrace this journey with reverence and purpose, for it is through our elemental dance that we must realize our fullest potential.

-Hermit King-

https://open.spotify.com/track/1xI9KSGNJB2eka8FMvovvi?si=r0a9JGVITFmr2K2G1dBSaA