“Time to make a new mask! This old one’s used up. Who do you want to be today? Do you wanna be just like someone on TV? So here’s the game we’ve played so many times. What will we call ourselves this time? Oh yes. Magic! What a nice way to tame the wildness of fire in a words. We’re chaos’ active dance, the burning light that leaves dust behind. We’re the salamander that leaves flaming footprints behind. We’ll pick you up and drop you down, and leave you a cinder with a wild grin. We’re destructive. You shouldn’t play with us, we like to burn.”
The destructive, active, femme force, as opposed to the building activeness of butch Wands. Elemental fire burns hot and leaves nothing behind – no dust, no ashes, not even a memory of its presence. What’s left is the bright memory of its motion. And what is the world without motion, after all? We burn up the base matter of ourselves with our consciousness; we die a little every second as our metabolic processes start to turn upon themselves.
One mask is easy to see. Two or more, not so much. Focus, focus, get all those masks to converge, and see what’s under the face of Force and Fire with the pure gaze of your Magical Will. Or get some glasses.
“Enough talking and theorizing! Let’s dance!”