spiritual djinn

There’s an elf in the house. I’ve become acquainted with the view from my angle on the floor, Kano bashing in my ears and the mirror so beautiful in its electric jewels. The pretty elf quotes “spiritual gin”, and “opium for the soul” as i pour a huge g&t. We were on the way out together, some jazz dude in Camden who had captured a flare of light for her. But I’m flat out, literally and she has work to do. Opium for the soul, words for the jewellery box. “Religion is the opium of the people”, that’s the one, forgive my miswording. I beg to differ. Opium, the opiate, the release of pain and suffering, perhaps is the religion itself. Opium is the religion of the people. “This is the time to wake up”, in the words of Greta Thunberg. I remember hearing a podcast about the difference between religion and faith. I think faith is intuitive, an innate ability to hope. Things can be unbearably beautiful and I strive to do, to be something with them when all the while their beauty is a result of their simply being. A friend once told me to relax when I told him the pain I felt from a moment being over, our context in that moment being music. If it weren’t for its passing, it wouldn’t exist. Hard to observe without trying to embody, possess and capture. Faith lets be, religion spirits away. I observe the mirror in its quiet glory, almost willing on patches of tarnish, of decadence. Devil’s ivy, what a beauty you are. A thing of fairytales, entwining hearts. Ensnaring larks for spirits of the dark. “But hidden in these flows is undeniable passion”, Kano. I just instamessaged him to ask for tickets. Worth a shot in the deep, deep blue.