Is it nearly into the first week of July 2022
And have all those invisible tears linked to emotional streams
Started falling again
Overwhelming you
Are you relieved from leaving all those sad days gone past
That seemed to forever linger and last like an unwanted preacher
Who's a religious outcast
Is it mysteriously silent before the Wild Hunt begins
And do the freeways beneath your shadowy bedroom window sills
Chime with the sounds of the approaching metaphysical hounds of the Baskervilles
Roaming the Berkshire foothills
Crying aloud
Sending out echoes of a sense of impending doom
Does it subjugate that very small room
Does the scent of a new escape from that old oblivion of 2021
Haunt and follow you like a devilish ghoul
Covered in pagan paint strokes and Heathen tattoos
Magical symbols of The Great Work
Only known about through absolution and confession
Old feelings of Hell been dissolved by all your five senses
In each second
As they fight for their own liberating rights of succession
Rounding up calls and cries for a new rebirth
Invoked in prayers sent up to Heaven
Do you still dream of enjoying your old freedoms
Which you revelled within starting at around seven or eleven
Which are now deemed by those sitting up high in society
As forbidden
A sacred place where those wild untameable horses
Of your innermost obsessions and yearnings
Can be openly ridden
Into a new ever-expanding kingdom
As you pray for divine salvation
And a new altar to build upon
What says you
Are you ready to claim and be the real you
(C) Copyright John Duffy
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