Press play before reading. Salute.
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you
The old or new hands
Young or even older poets or writers
Songwriters
Singers
Lyricists or filmmakers
Seek and use profound delicate words like a mage or sorcerer
A blessed mystical physician
Who carefully merges consonants and vowels
With an invincible wand
With soul bringing satisfaction
Like the proud leader of a Sunday morning marching band
Or one that forms intense bridges to happiness that must be metaphysically crossed
To escape from fatal feelings filled with juxtapositions
To help the lonely souls reading or listening
But all watching
To find a plateau to distract themselves from the sounds of the ever-ravenous world
While the rising Wolf Moon and Suen
The Sun
Smile in hunger and watches
Transfixed
As Father Times
Runes and magical symbols
Trapped with its minutes and seconds
Burns
Like Raidho
The rune of travel
Rhythm and ritual action
An integration of all aspects of the soul
A literal journey to another place that can help other spirits grow
Slowing down the ceremonious absorption by hidden vampire entities
As they seek spiritual essences to be endlessly consumed
Are all like you
Just the true kings and queens of the ancient art of the Latin world called
Ficta
When they choose to use it
Which swirls in the Universes fast flowing flux
Translated for the Uninitiated
As
Make Believe
Because they're so skilled at making things up without a fuss
That can sometimes bring solace and comfort to those
Who needs something emotional to help carry them through the low hours
And change their mood by its connective emotional power
Especially at dawn
Midnight or dusk
When old painful sensations can suddenly bloom like an irremovable wound
Beginning in any unwanted morning or afternoon
From heartbreak
Grief
Lost love
And silent yearnings
So are you one of The Universal Ficta crew
Those extraordinary souls who bring a burning glossy torch
Lit with incredible connective words
To create a raging maelstrom
A holy conjunction
To help those who need solace
To guide them through a depressing or desolate night
Wherever they are
As the four winds blow
Filled with golden and silver visceral invisible kingdoms conjured
And summoned
Through the magical transforming spell called Ficta
To help them heal and face this realm of many challenges and characters as they try to renew
I can only pray and hope you carry that torch
Everywhere you go before you turn to grey dust
Until next time
Your friend on the blue bridge of hope and creativity
Hiding in the Great In-Between
Waiting to see what you produce
Your eternal friend who you may call Benedictus
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
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