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Writer's pictureIsobel Black

A Mouse Dying in a Trap for a Prize He'll Never Receive | Channeled Message from The Morrigan

Monday, October 21, 2024


Why do you allow other tongues to speak for you? Other feet to shuffle your body into rooms you do not wish to be? Why do you hold the usurper in such high regard? Their skin melts just like yours. Blood boils and evaporates, leaving them and high and dry. Why do you keep going to them for answers, for help, for salvation? Is it because they do not appear to be burning?


Trust, child. They burn like we all do. Die just like any other. Don't know anything, just how you know nothing.


It is time to stop pretending. This world is never ending. Always a fire, melting your skin. Always a crisis and war to win. One life ends and another begins. What do you know of devotion? What say you of delusion? What is the difference, what's the word? Love.


What words remain stuck to the back of your throat, waiting to be swallowed or expelled? Speak now or forever hold your peace. Who is it you think you are, so powerful to withhold the truth from being seen? So quiet, like a mouse dying in a trap for a prize he'll never receive.


Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain

I know Saint Peter won't call my name

Never an honest word

But that was when I ruled the world

~Viva La Vida, Coldplay


Everything changes. Ancient stones, tall and heavy and immovable, become sand. Water wears on the earth, swallows the fires, and drowns the air. Everything changes. How have you changed?

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