Remembrance.

 

This poem is a personal elegy—a remembrance written to someone the speaker deeply loved who has died. Line by line, it reveals grief, love, guilt, and acceptance intertwined.

Here’s what it’s expressing in plain terms:

Loss connected to winter and Christmas

“Winter always reminds me of you… Especially the 24th of December.” Winter—and specifically Christmas Eve—marks the time of the person’s death. 

Holidays often intensify grief because they’re associated with family and togetherness.

A spiritual framing of death.

“When God said, ‘Come home, daughter. No more pain…’”

The speaker finds comfort in the belief that God took her to end her suffering. This frames death not as abandonment, but as release and peace.

Love that endures beyond death.

“I know you'll be leaving your loved ones, but your love will remain.”

The poem emphasizes that physical absence doesn’t erase emotional presence. Love continues to live on in memory.

Rituals of remembrance.

“I'll light another small white ceremonial candle.” Lighting a candle symbolizes mourning, remembrance, and ongoing connection. It indicates that the speaker actively honors her memory.

Grief mixed with gratitude.

“Yes, I could say I miss you, but…”

Instead of focusing only on pain, the speaker chooses to hold onto the joy of what they shared. This suggests a mature, reflective stage of grief.

Waves of longing.

“Whenever they push through.”

Grief isn’t constant—it comes in waves. The speaker acknowledges moments when sadness resurfaces.

Guilt and unresolved promises.

“I apologize for still being single…”

The speaker feels guilt for not moving on romantically, as if they made a promise to the deceased to continue living fully.

Irreplaceable love.

“But who's going to replace you?”

This isn’t just romantic love—it suggests a soulmate-level bond. The speaker feels no one could ever take her place.

Angel imagery and freedom.

“My Diamond and Kingdom… gained her angel wings.” Calling her “Diamond” and “Kingdom” shows how precious and central she was. Becoming an angel represents freedom from suffering and elevation beyond earthly pain.

The poem is about grieving a beloved woman (likely a partner) who died—possibly after illness—around Christmas. It reflects deep love.

Spiritual comfort.

Enduring connection.

Guilt about moving on.

Acceptance without forgetting.

It’s not just about missing someone—it’s about learning to live with love after loss.

So here it is. 

Title.

Remembrance.

(A lone voice whispers)

Winter always reminds me of you.

Especially the 24th of December, when God said, “Come home, daughter. No more pain. I know you'll be leaving your loved ones, but your love will remain.”

So tonight I'll light another small white ceremonial candle to remember you and all the sweet little things we used to do.

Yes, I could say I miss you, but we shared such beautifully incredible moments together that they sweep away the anxiety and longing.

 Whenever they push through.

I apologize for still being single even though I promised you in time I would try to move on and meet someone new.

But who's going to replace you?

My Diamond and Kingdom, who gained her angel wings to find freedom.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

    

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Longing

 

This poem is about a man who has accepted the end of a profound love but hasn’t emotionally let it go. 

He respects that the woman is married and that the relationship is over, yet his subconscious still holds onto what they once had. 

Dreams are the only space where that love survives.

It’s not about trying to reclaim her—it’s about mourning a love that never fully died inside him, even though life moved on.

The tone is wistful, tender, and restrained—more about quiet longing than regret or bitterness.

Title.

Longing.

(A lone voice whispers)

To the girl whose cross I once carried.

Like a reborn Jesus at Via Dolorosa.

Even though you're now married.

There's still a secret inside me.

Hidden so deep only my unconscious can find when it too has to sleep.

A secret I treasure and unconsciousness breathes into life. Through dreams that we are still husband and wife.

Oh, what I'd give for a few hours more to be under your power.

But our love quietly picked up its suitcase and walked out our door.

Leaving me to wallow in this.

My neverending Witching Hour.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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New Beginnings.

 

This poem is less about predicting literal events and more about capturing a shared psychological, spiritual, and emotional moment at the edge of uncertainty—specifically the transition from 2025 into 2026.

 It blends apocalyptic anxiety, poetic intimacy, mysticism, and hope into a single meditation.

At its heart, the poem asks:

> Can human connection, creativity, and shared meaning survive a world that feels like it’s unraveling?

The speaker addresses you—the reader—as both a companion and a collaborator.

The relationship is intellectual, spiritual, and digital, born online and sustained through words. 

Against this bond stands a looming sense of collapse: political chaos, ideological division, spiritual loss, and fears of authoritarian futures.

The poem never answers definitively. Instead, it chooses hope as an act of faith, not certainty.

Apocalypse as Psychological, Not just Physical.

The “last days of 2025” aren’t a prophecy so much as a mental and cultural breaking point:

Fear of social collapse.

Information overload.

Political extremism.

Loss of shared truth.

Fire, thunder, and darkness symbolize consumption by desire, rage, ideology, or fear rather than literal destruction.

The Sacred Bond Between Writer and Reader.

“You and me.

The reader and writer.”

This is central. The poem treats reading and writing as:

An intimate act.

A spiritual covenant.

The speaker wonders whether the reader will keep returning—whether words still have the power to bind, awaken, and transform in a distracted, unstable world.

Creative and Spiritual Energy.

They symbolizes:

Creative hunger.

Intellectual arousal.

The desire to feel alive and connected.

This merges eros (desire) with mysticism, suggesting that creation itself is sacred and sensual.

Occult, Pagan, and Mythological Language.

References to:

Zeus.

King Solomon.

Athame (ritual knife).

Spirit guides.

“So mote it be.” These frame poetry as ritual magic—words as spells used to:

Fight darkness.

Preserve meaning.

Call hope into existence.

The poem treats belief—not doctrine—as survival.

Fear of Dehumanized Futures.

Lines about:

“vaccinated slaves or unvaccinated exiles”

“quantum-tattooed”

“New World Order”

These reflect anxiety over loss of autonomy, forced identities, and ideological sorting, not necessarily endorsement of a specific theory.

 It’s the fear of being reduced to labels rather than souls.

Hope as Defiance.

Despite everything, the poem insists:

The sun still shines.

The dead are remembered.

Creativity continues.

Connection remains possible.

Hope is fragile—but chosen deliberately.

The Ending Meaning.

“So mote it be. What will be, will be.”

This isn’t resignation. It’s ritual acceptance:

Acknowledging uncertainty.

Refusing despair.

Continuing anyway.

The poem ends like a spell cast into the future, trusting that words, imagination, and shared humanity might still matter.

In One Sentence

The poem is a sensual, mystical conversation between writer and reader about surviving cultural collapse through creativity, belief, and shared meaning—choosing hope even when the future feels dangerously uncertain.

Title.

New Beginnings.

(A lone voice whispers)

Some whisper, and will in secret occult circles, about these last days of 2025.

That humanity will fall in unruly, petulant desire.

Consumed and devoured by a blazing infectious fire, but what happens to you and me?

 Your mind and mine?

Do you still shiver inwardly at the vibrational thoughts of my words? 

Do they bind you submissively to always return?

Doomed forever to hovering above 

my prose, which screams to be heard with wide, eager eyes like a love-struck hummingbird.

Do you still tremble like when we first met over the internet?

Wanting the warm caress of loquacious re-introductions of new secret verbs?

Opening mystical golden gates to new poetic realms and their guile to bind us together.

Like love-struck Siamese twins.

If you can only hold your nerve.

Creating welcomed sins of dried sweat and sweet tributaries of deep-seated spiritual yearnings.

That makes your mind so damn wet.

Tales of the Supernatural: Light and Darkness filled with movement or stillness, sovereignty or loneliness.

New flames of innermost desires, contained in unspeakable words or unfamiliar names.

And use as our Zisurru poetic stories set asunder in the heavy footfalls of Zeus's approaching apocalyptic thunder.

To burn new white hurricane lanterns in Imagination's darkened Halls of Fame.

To live in hope of new life, an everlasting dance.

With a wet drop of a wild transmigration as our new Nexus, to savor in your mouth.

Like an intense-tasting holy communion wine.

A strong touch of such wantonness your voracious soul needs to carry to all empires.

You may visit.

In the North, East, West, or South.

As it swallows new stories with ravenous greed.

Will we still survive together in 2026 with such intellectual thoughts?

 You might still whisper and silently ask.

You and me.

The reader and writer.

“Does 'Will It Last?'” Echo in lucid dreams whilst waiting for that midnight call on New Year's Eve?

When we sing pagan songs of King Solomon through words, as we fight back the encroaching darkness.

With shining, drunk astral eyes, as our athame, our sacrificial knife.

Inwardly praying to always believe.

In love and light after that midnight.

Under the sharp eyes of the winter midnight sun, which, for her, so many lost souls, we know and love.

She will still shine even brighter as she quietly watches and grieves. 

As they sadly collect their angel wings as they leave.

Who knows, my child?

Everlasting hope and peace could arrive as one, so we could conquer this new crazy normal and continue to rise.

Or it could all go wild and turn into a new dark nuclear history.

Where dreams and people are consumed and defiled as Good and Evil, battle for victory.

And apart, we may have to survive on mean streets as quantum-tattooed vaccinated slaves or unvaccinated exiles.

In a New World Order, called A Fool's Paradise Without Any Known Borders.

But either way, know this.

May your spirit guides lead you to continued health and safety across all fast-flowing political wars.

Waters.

Famine or social disorders.

So in 2026, we can still share our much-loved algorithms in all our holy quarters.

So mote it be. What will be, will be.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Judgemental

Judgment and cruelty live just beneath the surface of people or society. They are animalistic, destructive, and always waiting for an excuse to be unleashed. 

Only restraint keeps them from causing harm.

It’s a warning poem:

About mob mentality.

Moral superiority.

How easily judgment turns into violence.

It reflects exhaustion with human cruelty.

A sense of foreboding.

An awareness that civilization is fragile.

The poem warns that judgmental instincts are savage forces lying in wait beneath consciousness, and if unleashed, they will act brutally and without mercy.

It portrays judgmental thoughts, impulses, or entities as dangerous, restrained forces lurking beneath the surface—in a “Lower Dimension.” 

They may not be active yet, but they are waiting, tense and eager to break free.

The poem suggests that judgment itself is a primal, animal instinct that must be consciously restrained.

Title.

The Judgmental.

(A weary voice whispers)

In the Lower Dimension, they wait. Beasts, waiting like chained-up wild boars to be let loose.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Judgment and cruelty live just beneath the surface of people or society. They are animalistic, destructive, and always waiting for an excuse to be unleashed. 

Only restraint keeps them from causing harm.

It’s a warning poem:

About mob mentality.

Moral superiority.

How easily judgment turns into violence.

It reflects exhaustion with human cruelty.

A sense of foreboding.

An awareness that civilization is fragile.

The poem warns that judgmental instincts are savage forces lying in wait beneath consciousness, and if unleashed, they will act brutally and without mercy.

It portrays judgmental thoughts, impulses, or entities as dangerous, restrained forces lurking beneath the surface—in a “Lower Dimension.” 

They may not be active yet, but they are waiting, tense and eager to break free.

The poem suggests that judgment itself is a primal, animal instinct that must be consciously restrained.

Title.

The Judgmental.

(A weary voice whispers)

In the Lower Dimension, they wait. Beasts, waiting like chained-up wild boars to be let loose.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Goddess from Glastonbury Tor

 

At its core, this poem is a mythic, symbolic celebration of renewal, using Glastonbury Tor as a sacred focal point and the Goddess as a personification of Spring, rebirth, and spiritual cleansing.

The Goddess as Spring and Life-Force.

The “Goddess” represents:

Spring itself.

The Great Mother and life giver. A solar, regenerative power that returns after winter.

She is described as:

“Life-giving.”

A “warrior queen”—not ”gentle only, but active, powerful, and transformative.

Bringing warmth, fertility, and light back into the world.

This blends pagan, Celtic, and mythological imagery, common around Glastonbury, which is often associated with ancient goddess worship, Avalon, and ley lines.

Winter vs. Spring = Death vs. Rebirth.

Winter symbolizes:

Darkness.

Stagnation.

Spiritual coldness.

Emotional or inner numbness.

Spring symbolizes:

Renewal.

Awakening.

Cleansing.

Hope and new beginnings.

Lines like:

> “As Winter’s toys go back in his box”

Suggest winter is a temporary force that must step aside once its role is done.

The Vernal Equinox as Sacred Turning Point.

The Vernal Equinox is central:

Day and night are equal—balance is restored.

It marks the true beginning of the new cycle.

Nature “wakes up.”The equinox is personified with:

Robins singing.

Bells ringing.

The cockerel crowing at dawn.

All of these are traditional symbols of awakening and transition.

Purification and Spiritual Fire.

The “Purple Flame” and “molten arrows” represent:

Spiritual purification.

Burning away the residue of winter.(darkness, despair, stagnation)

Divine energy acting like a forge to reshape life.

This implies an inner transformation as much as an outer seasonal one.

Glastonbury Tor as the Sacred Source.

Glastonbury Tor functions as:

A spiritual beacon.

A mythic “heart” from which renewal spreads.

A meeting point between earth, sky, and spirit.

The Goddess’s power radiates outward:

> “Spreading from Glastonbury Tor / To all”

The Call to the Reader.

The poem ends by directly addressing you:

Will you hear the call?

Will you allow yourself to be “purged” and “reborn”?

This makes the poem not just descriptive, but invitational—asking the reader to:

Let go of inner winter.

Embrace renewal.

Begin again.

So here we have it.

A seasonal myth, a spiritual allegory, and a personal invitation to transformation, rooted in ancient symbolism but aimed at modern inner renewal.

Title.

The Goddess from Glastonbury Tor.

(A lone voice whispers)

Can you hear her faintly call / The Goddess now seated at Glastonbury Tor?

Spring / The life-giving goddess of all.

The warrior queen to emerge from / The deep depths of winter's cold.

To rally round the young and old / On the Vernal Equinox / As Winter's toys go back in his box.

And the warm blooming of Spring can begin / As choirs of Robins sing.

With the Goddess and Queen / Sharing her life-giving rays / To all in sight / Day or night.

Summoning forth the Purple Flame / To purge all winter's darkness that remains / All in the Great Creator's name.

Shooting molten arrows from the midday orb / To relight the cycle and the great forge.

In the many sleeping / Awaiting her ringing yellow bells / To break the winter's spell / When dawn's Vernal Equinox cockerel sings.

Welcoming the Goddess / Great Mother / Of all living things.

Awaiting the moment for her / To open her angel wings / So new life can begin.

Spreading from Glastonbury Tor / To all / With her New Year's weapons of war.

Will you hear her faint call / Once more / And purge your soul.

 From winter's cold / To be reborn.

With the blowing / Of her Great Golden Bannerman's horn?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Lower Dimension Dreaming.

 

This poem reads like a quiet, inward meditation on loss, especially grief tied to a birthday. 

(A lone voice whispers)

This sets the tone: the speaker is isolated, speaking softly—suggesting private thought, mourning, or inner dialogue rather than celebration.

It’s your birthday today. / A day of happiness and tears.

Birthdays usually symbolize joy, but here they also trigger sorrow. This strongly suggests the person being addressed is absent or deceased, and the birthday brings both loving memories and pain.

Juxtapositions and revisions.

This line points to contradictions and rethinking—how life places opposites together (joy and grief) and how the speaker keeps revisiting or rewriting their understanding of events, perhaps replaying memories or regrets.

Why is life unfair?

A direct expression of grief and frustration. This is the emotional core: a feeling that what happened should not have happened.

Why doesn’t God care, or are you now with him?

Here the poem moves into spiritual questioning. The speaker struggles with faith—wondering whether God is indifferent or whether the loss has meaning through an afterlife.

Standing by his side, up there?

This line softens the anger into longing. It imagines the lost person at peace, close to God, which offers a fragile comfort even amid doubt.

Overall meaning

The poem captures a moment where grief, love, faith, and doubt coexist. It doesn’t resolve the questions—it sits inside them. The “lower dimension” of the title may suggest life on Earth as a limited, painful plane compared to a hoped-for higher spiritual existence.

In short, the poem is about remembering someone on their birthday, confronting the unfairness of their absence, and wrestling with belief as a way to cope with loss.

Title.

Lower Dimension Dreaming. 

(A lone voice whispers)

It's your birthday today.

A day of happiness and tears.

Juxtapositions and revisions.

Why is life unfair?

Why doesn't God care, or are you now with him? Standing by his side, up there?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Seeking Absolution.

 

This poem reads as a confessional elegy—a blend of grief, guilt, and spiritual longing after a separation or loss.

Title: “Seeking Absolution”

Absolution is forgiveness, specifically in a religious sense. From the outset, the speaker frames their pain not just as loss, but as something they feel morally or spiritually responsible for. This suggests regret, self-blame, or remorse.

“(A lone voice whispers)”

The whisper signals intimacy, shame, and isolation. Confessions are whispered, not proclaimed. The speaker is alone with their conscience.

“Sometimes the rhymes cry for you to return and join our choir, but now we sing alone.”

The “rhymes” represent thoughts, memories, or even poems themselves. They want the lost person to return.

A “choir” implies harmony, unity, and shared purpose—once plural, now singular. The absence has fractured something communal or intimate.

“Singing from our hymn sheet. / The Song of the Broken.”

A hymn sheet suggests something once sacred or shared. Now the only song left is one of damage and sorrow. The speaker isn’t improvising joy; they’re repeating pain.

“About you.”

This abrupt line isolates the cause of the suffering. Everything—song, prayer, guilt—centers on this one person.

“Oh, Lord. Forgive me. / For I have sinned.”

This is a direct confession. The speaker believes they have done wrong—possibly causing the rupture, the loss, or the pain. The repetition reinforces sincerity and desperation.

“Oh, Lord Almighty. / Forgive me.”

Invoking God’s power emphasizes how heavy the guilt feels. Human forgiveness may no longer be possible, so the speaker turns upward.

“Amen.”

The prayer ends formally, as if sealing the confession. But “Amen” also implies acceptance—that the speaker may never receive the forgiveness they seek, yet must still ask.

The poem explores grief mixed with guilt. The speaker mourns someone who is gone—emotionally or physically—but unlike simple loss, this absence is haunted by self-blame. The religious imagery suggests the pain has crossed into the spiritual realm, where the speaker feels unworthy, broken, and in need of absolution.

It’s not just about missing someone.

It’s about believing you are the reason they’re gone.

Title.

Seeking Absolution. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Sometimes the rhymes cry for you to return and join our choir, but now we sing alone.

Singing from our hymn sheet.

The Song of the Broken.

About you.

Oh, Lord. Forgive me.

For I have sinned.

For I have sinned.

Oh, Lord Almighty.

Forgive me.

Amen.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Have you too felt a Rupture?

 This poem is a short, intimate expression of grief after emotional separation, not just the loss of a relationship but the loss of what that person represented.

Title: “Have you too felt a rupture?”

A rupture is a break or tear—suggesting something once whole has been suddenly and painfully split. 

This frames the poem as being about emotional damage rather than simple sadness.

“(A lone voice whispers)”

This stage direction sets a tone of isolation and vulnerability. The speaker isn’t declaring their pain loudly; they’re confiding it, almost to themselves.

“I still miss you, you know.”

A direct, conversational line. It implies unfinished business—things left unsaid or feelings that persist despite separation.

“Not your looks or smiles. / Just you.”

This clarifies that the loss isn’t superficial or physical. The speaker misses the essence of the person—their presence, identity, and emotional connection.

“The serenity of being around you. The peace and tranquility.”

The loved one functioned as an emotional anchor. Their presence calmed the speaker, proposing the relationship provided safety or emotional balance.

“For you once brought me peace, and now I'm left alone.”

The contrast emphasizes loss. Peace has been replaced by loneliness, reinforcing the rupture implied by the title.

“Now our love lives dead. In realms of the newly Deceased.”

This metaphor treats the relationship as something that has died. “Newly Deceased” suggests the grief is fresh, raw, and unresolved—the speaker is still in the early stages of mourning.

The poem captures the quiet aftermath of a breakup or emotional loss, where the speaker mourns not romance or attraction, but the emotional refuge the other person provided. It’s about longing, solitude, and the painful realization that something deeply meaningful is gone—recently and irreversibly.

Title.

Have you too felt a rupture?

(A lone voice whispers)

I still miss you, you know.

Not your looks or smiles.

Just you.

The serenity of being around you. The peace and tranquility.

For you once brought me peace, and now I'm left alone. Now our love lives dead. In realms of the newly Deceased.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Poet from Sheol.

 

 A poem that reads like a manifesto delivered from beyond the grave—a warning and a challenge from someone who has already crossed the final boundary.

Title: “A Poet from Sheol”

Sheol is an ancient term for the realm of the dead. By choosing it, the poet frames the speaker as a voice outside time and society, someone who has nothing left to lose and therefore can speak truth bluntly. This immediately gives the poem a prophetic, almost mythic authority.

“(A ghostly voice whispers)”

The whisper suggests urgency and intimacy—this isn’t a loud sermon but a personal warning meant for those still alive.

“Try to be rebellious and monolithic. / Magnificent and unspecific.”

These lines intentionally pair contradictions.

Rebellious vs. monolithic:

Be defiant, but grounded. Stand firm in who you are, not scattered by trends.

Magnificent and unspecific:

Aim for greatness without being easily categorized. Don’t let labels reduce you.

This suggests resisting the pressure to be neatly defined or marketable.

“Break the rules. / Fool the Gatekeepers.”

The Gatekeepers symbolize institutions, norms, critics, algorithms, traditions—any system that decides whose voice matters. The poem urges creative subversion, not reckless chaos, but clever resistance.

“The toll keepers of society.”

This deepens the metaphor: society demands payment—conformity, silence, safety—in exchange for acceptance. The poem encourages refusing that cost.

“Be unique. / Share those stories you keep, and never go quietly.”

This is the emotional core:

Your uniqueness matters.

Your untold stories matter.

Silence is a kind of death before death.

“Never go quietly” echoes Dylan Thomas’s “Do not go gentle into that good night,” reinforcing defiance in the face of mortality.

“Before you too finally go to sleep.”

“Sleep” is a gentle euphemism for death, bringing the poem full circle. The speaker reminds us that time is limited—and regret is permanent.

Overall Meaning.

The poem is a call to creative and personal courage delivered from the perspective of someone who can no longer act—only warn.

Its message:

> Live boldly. Speak honestly. Resist systems that flatten you. Tell your stories while you still can.

The voice from Sheol isn’t asking for rebellion for its own sake—it’s urging authenticity before it’s too late.

Title.

A Poet from Sheol.

(A ghostly voice whispers)

Try to be rebellious and monolithic.

Magnificent and unspecific.

Break the rules.

Fool the Gatekeepers.

The tollkeepers of society.

Be unique.

Share those stories you keep, and never go quietly.

Before you too finally go to sleep.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

The monologue of the spirit from The Great In-Between.

A dramatic, mystical lament expressing:

• Longing for a lost or unreachable lover

• Fear of being forgotten or unloved

• Hope for reunion in spiritual realms if not in life

• The blending of memory, dream, fantasy, and metaphysics

It’s both a love letter and a ghost story—a message from someone who feels removed from the world yet bound to one person with overwhelming devotion.

The ultimate purpose of the monologue—

to avoid being forgotten.

(A lone voice whispers)

Lost in this unrepentant noise of an old life, as it still seduces my mind.

Consuming and beguiling, I speak to you from the other side as these magical words, conjured from the deep crimson lips of my inner mind.

Reaches out to hypnotise thine.

Words which once lay lost but are now found in the transient music of the unknown and forlorn.

How my inner light shines ever brighter, as it repeats these beautifully written words with my softly spoken voice, above the unrepentant noise.

My skin comes alive like the Great Canopies in unexplored jungles, in the deepest of Africa, at dawn.

I just now dream a continuous fantasy which infuses my bloodstreams and veins with copious energy.

There have always been subtle moments throughout long-lost days

and cold nights, when that irresistible longing and need seemed too much.

When I pined hourly for just a feel of your touch.

Would I be abandoned like another slave to the four winds by unrequited love, forever burning?

Spinning endlessly in desires, salacious red fires?

Just hoping to walk within your shadows or sate my thirst and hunger.

With just a glimpse of you passing by my pale white window, I still look from.

Just to see you standing by the well by that old apple tree, to break me free from this dark dream.

As I walk, trapped in a never-ending limbo.

It's where I turn to each night as I think of you and stare out my scrying glass, which I use as my second shadow.

How do I reach you?

Those old road maps and contacts are still yours to give.

For they are your deep secrets, you still purposely keep from these lands.

Those beautiful grounds on which you still stand.

There may be uncertainty and unexplored hordes and mountains

to conquer between us.

"Grimoires of Gossip," whispered in the dark to keep us apart.

But still, I send this message out.

If you're hearing this, Josephine.

We’ll now meet in the Astral planes of dreams.

Where we’ll need no more formal introductions as we already know our own truly secretive god-given names.

In the many still alive treacheries which may still surround your broken heart like She'ol, as you traverse this world.

Within your living Universe, when you feel totally lost and so lonely.

Know my white candle still burns even through all the rain clouds and storms, when you feel trapped, and breathlessness spins over your overthinking emotions.

Remember me thinking of you.

Somewhere just over the world's many oceans.

Just standing patiently under that red old lamp post by some Red Churches' wrought iron old gates.

No matter how late.

Maybe I’ll wait forever, but if I'm gone before you arrive.

If I’ve waited too long, and I eventually disappear and ascend.

I'll leave you a red envelope under the white stones by the gatepost on the left.

In it is my road map to the stars, where I will now stay and reside and will always wait.

Where I will now stand by an old alabaster church, I will create and build and wait under its white lamp post.

By its sparkling wrought iron old gates.

Remember me.

(C) Copyright John Duffy

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