The golden lion smiles a quiet smile. His roar fades as he turns away, leaving it to echo in your brain. He always knew it would be this way”… Ian Maleney on Seekers International‘s The Call From Below.

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Night has fallen but your curtains remain open. The moon hangs amid the stars, a weighty off-white orb pulsing dreadfully against the dark of the sky. The bed sheets are cold but your skin leaks all the same, a film of salty sweat coats you from head to toe. Your hair grows damp and matted. The air presses down slightly upon your chest, making your breathing a mite more laboured than it ought to be. You meditate on the weight; under it, in it. Your lungs fill in sync with the pulse of the moon. The stars are all re-arranged, sparser now and more beautiful. The imperial majesty Haile Selassie appears to you in the form of a golden lion. His mane is long and full. It frames passionate eyes, as quick to fill with empathy and understanding as passionate, fearsome anger. He has a message for you. A roar which only you can hear is let loose from his terrific maw. It grows so loud it bends the walls of the room back, throbbing blissfully, devouring every scrap of air with its awesome sound. It warps around your ears, phasing. In the eye of the great emperor’s storm is a riddim. The riddim is SKRS. SKRS are the riddim, it calls from below. It is in your bones and in your mind, it is in the smoke above your eyes. You are one with SKRS and the riddim. The golden lion smiles a quiet smile. His roar fades as he turns away, leaving it to echo in your brain. He always knew it would be this way.

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