5. GATEKEEPER (Hierophant)
Crow says: “God’s not command, God’s cue.”
next voice is you.
The Hierophant — Reversed
(Scroll past lyrics to read about the song)
INTRO
Funeral continues.
This is the eulogy of the borrowed voice.
I am Gatekeeper.
Teach what I still fear to do.
I am the Hierophant —
memorized God and forgot myself.
Ghost guards what never goes.
Crow asks:
“Will you open or guard the gate?”
VERSE 1
Raised on rules I never wrote.
Burn what’s borrowed — keep what spoke.
“Knowledge unused molds in the throat.”
Dawn salutes me like an old mistake.
Swallow the light before I see it.
They say I’m strong; I say I stiffen.
I just hold it in.
Ghost says, “Meaning repeats to survive.”
Safety loops tight to keep me alive.
I want to be held — without purpose.
Warmth without witness, just to feel surface.
A moment unarmed from holding the world.
Crow taps the glass — “Truth or twirl?”
Keys rust if you never turn them.
Hands unlearn what they can’t affirm.
I’m not wise; I’m wired —
I am Gatekeeper.
PRE-CHORUS
Ghost said, what’s the use?
Pull that nail loose.
Grip on grace, grin through grief.
Guilt’s old gospel — cut that talk.
Hierophant hungers for order and praise.
Gatekeeper caged in history’s maze.
Crow says,
“Let them misbehave —
you can’t save what doesn’t want change.”
CHORUS
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — tongue bit thin.
Keep my calm till the edges cave in.
Nail that won’t pierce just scratches doubt.
Faith was the frame that kept me out.
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — feel safe, stay needed.
Fix what breaks just to feel connected.
Said another thing I didn’t mean.
Love sounds different in routine.
VERSE 2
I don’t hold answers — just more questions.
Ghost says it’s safer to be right than real.
Authority’s better than uncertainty.
Chew feelings till they lose their flavor.
Clean, explain, reorganize.
Panic looks productive.
Keep my breakdowns tidy.
Give advice like antacids.
Can’t digest silence.
Trade fun for obligation.
Still praying someone saw the smoke.
Live the law by breaking it open.
Freedom feels nothing like what they said.
Crow says,
“You can’t call it faith if it never risks you.”
Brave is the hand that tries something new.
If I’m helping you, I don’t have to look at myself.
If I’m useful, I don’t have to feel.
PRE-CHORUS 2
Ghost said, what’s the use?
Pull that nail loose.
Grip on grace, grin through grief.
Guilt’s old gospel — I cut that talk.
Hierophant hungers for order and praise.
Gatekeeper caged in history’s maze.
Crow says,
“Let them misbehave —
you can’t save what won’t change.”
CHORUS
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — tongue bit thin.
Keep my calm till the edges cave in.
Nail that won’t pierce just scratches doubt.
Faith was the frame that kept me out.
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — feel safe, stay needed.
Fix what breaks just to feel connected.
Said another thing I didn’t mean.
Love sounds different in routine.
BRIDGE
Every version of me was just trying to live.
Each one burned, each one forgives.
Crow said,
“Child, your misstep’s the motion.”
Burn inside for what you believe —
Body keeps faith, won’t let it leave.
Salt the gland, watch belief leak slow.
Kept my world small so the change won’t show.
Now I trade knowing for letting go.
CHORUS
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — tongue bit thin.
Keep my calm till the edges cave in.
Nail that won’t pierce just scratches doubt.
Faith was the frame that kept me out.
Gatekeeper, Gatekeeper — feel safe, stay needed.
Fix what breaks just to feel connected.
Said another thing I didn’t mean.
Love sounds different in routine.
OUTRO
Crow picks nails from forgotten graves.
turns them into wings for the ones who stayed.
Says: stop quoting truth and live on
You’ve stood still too long.
walk with me.
Crow says: “God’s not command, God’s cue.”
next voice is you.
gate is sealed.
Next ghost, split reveals.
Card & Ghost
Tarot Card: The Hierophant (Reversed)
Thoth Name: The Hierophant
My Ghost: Gatekeeper
Zodiac/Planet: Taurus
Hebrew Letter: Vav (ו) — nail, hook
Path: 16
What It Means Reversed:
Teaching without embodiment is just keys that never turn. I quote the truth but fear to live it.
About the Song
I used to ask questions—a lot of them. But somewhere along the way, I learned to stop. The sigh, the eye roll, the way someone’s patience would thin. I felt like a burden. So I started pretending I knew more than I did. I collected answers like armor. If I had the right quote, the right teaching, the right posture, maybe no one would see how lost I actually was.
I could recite the wisdom, explain, quote the teachers—but my body stayed on the shelf. I was the one with the answers, never the one with the questions. Never the one listening.
I learned early that being right kept me safe. That authority meant survival. That if I knew the rules, I could keep the chaos out. So I built a temple out of knowledge, polished the keys, memorized the maps. But I never walked the road.
I used to say “should” constantly. To myself, to others. You should try this. I should have figured it out by now. I thought it was guidance. It was borrowed judgment wearing a teacher’s voice. It was the Gatekeeper speaking through my throat, mistaking other people’s rules for my own.
I used to do the spiritual one‑upmanship thing. I shared the memes, posted the quotes, had all the crystals. I made affirmation cards for other people, told them to love themselves—but I couldn’t say a single kind word to my own reflection. I was a hypocrite. I still am, in ways I’m still uncovering.
This song is the moment the temple starts to stir. The moment I stop quoting truth and start letting it walk through me.
What This Ghost Is
Gatekeeper is the ghost of borrowed belief. She knows every scripture, every system, every lineage—but she doesn’t live any of them. She teaches surrender but flinches at her own. She offers wisdom but starves herself of wonder.
Her power is preservation. Her curse is fixation. She mistakes repetition for devotion, ritual for relationship. She guards the gate so well that even truth can’t get through.
She believes if she just knows enough, says the right things, follows the right formulas, she’ll finally be safe.
A ghost is not the one who hurt you. It’s the self that flinched and stayed. A costume made from breath‑holding. A decision loop dressed in praise. Gatekeeper was never the liar—she was the one who memorized the map so she wouldn’t have to feel lost.
Where It Lives in the Body
Gatekeeper lives in my throat—the words I swallow, the words I rehearse, the truth I hold back. She lives in my spine, locked upright, the posture of someone terrified to crumble. My tongue presses against my teeth, testing if language still fits.
When I speak, my throat tightens. When I’m asked a real question, my voice goes papery. Heat rises behind my ears, where the unspoken anger simmers. My liver holds the bitterness of every rule I followed without ever choosing it.
She lives in my knees, too—the joints that refuse to bend. Not from weakness, but from the old belief that if I yield, I’ll lose what I’ve built. They ache when I’m asked to soften. They lock when change walks too close.
She’s not in my head. She’s in the tension between knowing and living.
Tarot & Magick: The Hierophant Reversed
In the Thoth tarot, The Hierophant is Taurus—earth, patience, tradition. He sits between the pillars, the bridge between heaven and earth. Upright, he transmits wisdom. He is the teacher who makes the sacred accessible.
Reversed, the bridge becomes a wall. The teaching becomes a cage. He quotes what he won’t live. He initiates others into silence because he’s afraid to speak his own truth.
Correspondences (from my study notes):
Hebrew letter: Vav (ו) — nail, hook; what binds heaven to earth
Planet: Venus (ruling Taurus) — love, value, beauty
Element: Earth — stability, weight, form
Animal: Elephant — memory, endurance, the weight of lineage
In myth, The Hierophant reversed is the priest who forgot the god. Gatekeeper is that forgetting made flesh.
Why This Song Belongs Here
The ghosts before—Hesitator, Deflector, Escapist, Smotherer, Commander—built the walls of survival. Gatekeeper is where those walls became doctrine. She’s the one who turned fear into theology, avoidance into mystery.
After her, the Split learns to choose, the Rider learns to move, the rest of the ghosts begin to dissolve. But Gatekeeper is where I start asking questions and stop reciting answers. This song is when I let myself not know.
What This Song Is
This song shows what knowledge costs when it’s never lived. It cracks the doctrine open. It names the exhaustion behind the teaching. It teaches that the only true lesson is the one you let change you.
What I Learned
Gatekeeper taught me that I don’t have to have the answers. That the people who need me don’t need a perfect teacher—they need a human one. That my voice matters even when it shakes.
She protected me when knowledge was the only safety I had. Now she’s learning to let the wisdom walk.
How I Will Use This Card in My Own Readings
When I pull The Hierophant reversed, I know Gatekeeper is active. She’s the one who quotes the truth but lives afraid of it. Here’s how I work with her.
When I pull this card reversed…
I check where I’m hiding behind knowledge. What am I teaching that I’m not living? I ask myself: What would it feel like to admit I don’t know? That question usually loosens the throat.
Teachers who helped me understand this ghost
Lon Milo DuQuette: The Hierophant is not the priest—it’s the bridge. If you’re not walking, it’s just a structure.
Aleister Crowley: The Aeon of Horus demands that each person become their own priest. Gatekeeper is the ghost of the old aeon, still guarding the gate instead of walking through.
Louise Hay: The throat holds unspoken truth. Speaking it is the first step to living it.
The elephant: Memory is sacred, but memory without movement becomes a tomb. Even elephants move.
Questions I ask myself when this card appears
What truth am I quoting instead of living?
Where am I teaching what I’m afraid to practice?
What would it feel like to let myself not know?
A YHVH Spread Example
The YHVH spread is a four‑card layout I use when I want to look at a situation from four angles. Each position matches one of the four letters in the Hebrew name YHVH, and each also lines up with a court card, a suit, and an element. I never understood this until I started writing the album—it finally clicked when I could feel it in the songs. I’m still learning, so these notes are mostly for myself.
Here’s the simple map I keep in my journal:
1. Yod — King — Wands — Fire
The spark — where it begins
2. Heh — Queen — Cups — Water
The container — how I hold it
3. Vav — Prince — Swords — Air
The connection — how I move through it
4. Heh final — Princess — Pentacles — Earth
The manifestation — where it lands
If I pull Gatekeeper (The Hierophant reversed) in this spread, here’s what it might look like:
Yod (King / Wands / Fire — the spark): The wisdom is there. The desire to teach is there. But the spark is held in the mind, not lit in the body.
Heh (Queen / Cups / Water — the container): I hold the teachings like relics. I keep them safe, but I don’t let them touch me. The container is pristine—and empty.
Vav (Prince / Swords / Air — the connection): I show up as the teacher. I connect others to the wisdom, but I don’t connect it to myself. The bridge is crossed by everyone but me.
Heh final (Princess / Pentacles / Earth — the manifestation): If I keep this up, the teachings stay theory. The outcome is stagnation—unless I finally let the lesson land in my own life.
Somatic / Body Note
Gatekeeper lives in my throat—the words I swallow, the sermons I rehearse, the truth I hold back. She lives in my spine, locked upright, the posture of someone terrified to crumble. When I finally speak what I actually believe, my throat opens. The breath that was held releases. My spine remembers it was meant to bend. And when I replace “should” with “could,” my knees unlock. The judgment softens. The voice that was borrowed finally finds its own pitch.
Blessing
May the keys you guard learn to turn.
May the wisdom you teach find your own hands.
May the gate you hold finally swing open.
A little crow’s on the wire, keeping watch over you. 🐦⬛
A Note from My Study
I’m still learning. I don’t have this down. I’m still living in the gap, still trying to become more like the music I write. I write for myself—so I can study, so I can hear the direction I want to go.
I’m working from Aleister Crowley’s Thoth Tarot, the deck that became my study guide for this album. The correspondences (Hebrew letters, paths, planets) come from that tradition. These notes are just what I’ve gathered. If they help someone else, that’s a gift. If not, they’re just breadcrumbs from my own walk.
— Thank you for witnessing.
Loui Crow
