. Poetry from The Great In-Between: The Mystic

Monday, May 6, 2024

The Mystic

 Title:


The Mystic 


(A lone voice whispers)



Some say

I have a gift 


A supernatural trick 


But for the profane

It's quite simple to explain 


You see 

My bloodline is infused 

By a thousand generations 


Of magical conjurers 


From beyond 

The Lands of Kush 


From the deepest parts of the unexplored African Bush


And it's not your fault you're being drawn to me


It's because I called to you 


Over land

Moor or 

Sea 


Like one of my bloodline many Mages 


To come 

Calling 


So 

Run wild 

Over all of your life's wild woods


To reach my secret mountain glade


Called The Nexus 

Hidden here in these words


To be perused and understood


Come to see the tapestries of your destiny 


As I stand chanting in my circle of salt


Sending out poetic spells to enchant you each night

  

Like loyal soldiers

Standing to attention 

On parade 


Like John Gault


For I know 

You feel lost

And alone


Even when you prayed

For a cure 


Like it's your right 

By de jure


For something's are beyond your control 


And that isn't your fault 


So just know I still wait in these dark woods


Just hidden in the half light

In the shade


Will you surrender to curiosity and come see

Me


Willingly by hook or crook

On foot


For I will show you 

A new transcendental spiritual temple


Sights to transform your mind


Let you use its white altar to absolve all your fears


Do you wish to enter into my Red Church


At the core of the Nexus 

Like a king or queen 


To see your general 


To be baptized and ordained


Will you walk through the

gray clouds of gray smoke that chokes


In your world 


Past those enticing fires

surrounded by temptations many enticing liars


To finally cross the great wet yellow sands and swim through the dark waters


To reach my mountains' woodland glade


Where you can finally dance freely


Amongst the deadly nightshade


And face the rise of the Full Winter's Moon


Totally unafraid

To exchange Sacred Prose


As our soul's manifestos


What says you

Are you coming through 


Copyright John Duffy 

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The Oracle in the Mists