The Empire of My Soul

The Empire of My Soul

Dear Traveler,

I didn’t need a ship or a train to leave my home. Just an armchair, a pile of maps, and this flickering arcade machine I found in a church cellar. The priest whispered to me: ‘Retrace the steps of the Magi, and you’ll find the empire of your soul.’

He was right. The maze on the screen is no game—it’s a passageway. Each corridor leads not to ghosts or prizes, but to streets of forgotten cities and towers made of starlight. Last night, I crossed a golden gate and entered a city built entirely of constellations. Every building was a memory: some I had lost, others I had yet to live.

I think I’ve finally understood. This is not a journey through space, but through the eternity within myself. The Magi had their desert; I have my neurons, my dreams, my soul.

If this message reaches you, know that I am still walking—not on Earth, but in the 4th Dimension.

Wish you were here,
The Armchair Traveler

 

This is a story that originated from a marker poem in the series Messages from the 4th Dimension, in which blackout poetry was created on the basis of English-language correspondence, magazines, brochures, and other documents from the estate of Philip Coppens, writer and researcher of the paranormal and alternative history (1971–2012).

Read more about this in my book Een magisch-realist in Mysterieus België, het Boek der Synchroniciteiten.

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