Magick is the Art of Dancing Paradoxes.
It is the movement between worlds, the endless weaving of realities both seen and unseen. Magick is the ancestral song that rises from the bones of the Earth, a hymn older than speech, a pulse that beats beneath every stone, tree, and living heart. It is the song sung without words, the invisible thread that binds creation together, the breath of life itself.

Magick is sacred, for it is the fire of the Gods flowing through our dreams, awakening the gifts that slumber within our blood. It is the whisper of divinity that moves through mortal veins, the secret flame that neither perishes nor obeys. Magick is freedom in its purest form, for it bows to no man, no crown, no creed. It is the eternal melody of the cosmos, echoing from the first spark of creation to the final silence of the tomb.

Magick is sharp as a blade and fluid as a river. It moves through the soul to nourish or to consume. It is the whisper of the daring and the cry of the bold-hearted. It dwells in the skilled hands of the maiden whose path is written with thorn and blood, and in the trembling hands of the old man who knows not what he summons. It rests in the stillness of the grave and breathes again in the first cry of the newborn.

Magick lives in the shadow behind the mirror and in the shadow of every soul. It is the ecstasy of the flesh in Malkuth and the ascent through the silver gates of Yesod. It dwells within the dreaming mind and within the voice that dares to speak truth. It is the wonder that survives in the heart of the inner child and the power that lingers in the ruins of fallen empires. It moves through the shining cities of modern men just as it once roamed the wild forests of ancient worlds.

It transmutes eternally and coils like a serpent within the Great Web, glimmering in the threads of time between all times. It exists within the eternal present. It burns in the hearts of the Devout and roars freely within the storm. It is the darkness of the moonless night and the blazing brilliance of the Sun. It touches every soul that carries its spark and it endures beyond all endings.

From the hidden Source to the earthly realm, Magick flows. It is the pulse of the in-between, the sacred current that connects all planes of being. It is the secret architecture of the multiverse, the key and the gate, the dream and the dreamer. Therefore, Magick is sacred, a living blessing of the Old Ones. With reverence and courage we must uphold it, guarding its wisdom in devotion and humility, for the path of Magick is the song of the Universe dreaming itself into being …