A REFLECTION BY JARRAD DICKSON

Look at her eye, that was wide open and wild, as Ligeria, the priestess of the Chinese albino golden star walked along the beach of Hahei, behind her the Pa, casting its shadow on her, and see her gowns fluttering with the wind, and her hair, also wild, and her skin, white, milky and pale, shining in the night.
The moon reflected in the ocean, illuminating the night, and Ligeria was beautiful, full, and enchanting.

Look at her eye, and know her. Know her as the one of the Pa, the one of Hahei, its spirit, and know it to be white.
Who is the mystery of the Pa? Know it to be a white mystery; know it to be Ligeria, in her name Pandora, the source of the Pa.

The Pa opens, revealing the holy products of Pandora, her box, and see the souls of Anesidora.

Look at the Pa, the eye of Hahei, and see it full like the moon, and know Ligeria as the ancient playwright of Hahei, the woman of the Pa.

Look at her eye, as she sees Michael walk towards her and wrap her in his arms.

Look at his eye, the eye of Michael Mathew, as he stares lovingly into Ligeria’s eyes, and know him as the man of the Pa, the soul of Hahei.

“You have to live, I have to die, we have to be together,” spoke Ligeria.

Look at their eyes, that were wide open and cut as they met for the last time, in a tryst, their heart strings pulling wide eyed and open.
Their eyes are one eye, and it is the Pa, and was their last sight, as they were sentenced to death and beheaded on the beach of Hahei.

Look at his eye, and her eye, and know their deaths, and know them as the soul of Hahei, and know forever more they will be in the Pa, and of the Pa, and always from the Pa.

Look at the Pa, it is the eye of Horus, and looks out to you, inviting you in, and you go, and look at your eye now, it is the eye of the dead.