Amidst the towering structures of concrete and steel, where urban sprawl reigns supreme, a poignant truth emerges: the poor living in these bustling city centres are bereft of a fundamental connection with nature and its ancient magic. A mystical veil shrouds the untamed wilderness, concealing its secrets, while the privileged wield their cunning to safeguard their dominion over the masses.
Once, in shadowed groves and secluded glades, old magic thrived. Whispers of time immemorial guided rituals that fed the hungry soul and nourished the spirit. Tribal dances summoned forth the wisdom of ancestors, their ethereal presence under the canopy of starry skies an echo of timeless wisdom. Nature’s bounty, in all its abundant grace, was harnessed to brew elixirs that healed and empowered the heart, body, and mind. These were the gifts of the Earth, freely offered to all who dared to seek their solace.
Yet, such potent knowledge became a threat to those who coveted control. The mighty, driven by an insatiable hunger for power, saw the unbridled embrace of nature’s magic as a challenge to their supremacy. They sought to suppress these traditions, branding them as mere superstitions or dangerous heresies that threatened their dogmatic order. The elite manoeuvred to silence the shamans, wise keepers of ancient wisdom, casting shadows upon their ageless rites.
Rituals were banned, and their enchanting dances subdued to the dark corners of history. Healers, the benevolent custodians of natural remedies and ethereal talismans, were unjustly branded as charlatans by those who could not understand the intricacies of their craft. Their tinctures, drawn from the depths of the forests and the heart of the earth, were cruelly confiscated.
Why, one might wonder, would the mighty turn their backs on such wondrous lore? It is in the enigmatic depths of these uncanny arts that they find their vulnerability. Nature’s magic cannot be tamed, commodified, or controlled for capital gain. Its wisdom is free and boundless, a treasure that eludes the clutches of patents and profit margins.
In their quest for domination, the privileged seek to disconnect the urban masses from their natural roots. The concrete jungles become fortresses of alienation, where the beauty and serenity of nature are but distant memories. The poor are deprived of the healing touch of the Earth, severed from the very essence of their being. The sacred dance with the divine cycle of life, once shared by all, is now a privilege reserved for the few.
Yet, hope remains, like a seed dormant in the harshest winter. Even amidst the steel and glass, the human spirit yearns for its primal connection. A resurgence of curiosity, an awakening of collective consciousness, whispers of a renaissance of nature’s magic. The underprivileged seeks solace in the forgotten corners of the urban landscape, where resilient weeds push through the cracks in the pavement, a reminder that life finds a way.
The time will come when the poor will reclaim their birthright when the magic of the forests and the wisdom of the ancients shall flow freely once more. For nature and its ancient magic are inexhaustible, and its potent mysteries transcend the grasping hands of the powerful. As the urban masses reconnect with their natural essence, they will forge a new path, reclaiming their place in the sacred dance of life, and restoring balance to a world too long dominated by the mighty few.
By Pen De’Grof
Read The Suppression of Art and Magic here
