A long occult gift for the inquisitive
Tenebris Oculi (L) AKA Mr. Dark Eyes
(A lone voice whispers)
To all the mysterious souls just lost beyond my second sight and long reach
Maybe even you
Who are perhaps my number 2 from a pack of 7
Hiding somewhere unknown in Father Time's long silver grass
Watching my every move like Loki the Norse Raven
Lying scattered across all the oceans and before all the greatest of Antarctic lakes
Below (אֱלָה)
Quietly reading this and trying to compose inspired poetry
Beseeching your inner mind's great portico to quickly open
And spill forth
Secretive words only once whispered long ago and spoken in the darkest of carved out corridors
Celebrating the Festival of Karneia on the Fourth
By the Pythia to bathe within its spectacular potency
In ancient Apollo's candlelit yellow temples in Pompeii
In cold winters nights
May these channelled words find a way
To weave a magical spell to beguile your own inquisitive mind and everlasting soul
To be slowly opened up with Apollo's ritual athame
Carving poetry with Apollo's knife into your deep mind many kingdoms
Everywhere you go
For you to then find the courage to breach your own inner great gates
To finally find and drink from that mystical ever-flowing well
Found in the centre of all things
To know how infectious Apollo's power is
Beyond those inner great gates
By only the true believers like maybe you and the many seekers of the profound truths
Found
In linking expressive verbs like daisy chain necklaces
Seeking to taste whatever their spirits really desire and then hoping to hold their nerve
And make the return journey home
Filled and sated
With smiling faces
Wildly mentally dancing to a new sound
Announcing the arrival of their life's only holy obligation
Like a true gift at Christmas
To then write profusely
Be it at midnight or throughout the long days
Recalling and narrating the many sacred strands
And complex explorations of the many layers of human emotions
From Love
Hate
Life and Death
And whatever else
That comes smiling or snarling their way
From those just hidden beneath all blue and green seas
The Great Old Ones
In the deep depths
Of the Final Abyss
Hidden somewhere in the fluctuating waves of the Fram Strait
A passageway taken by those who deep dream
Seeking that rare gift
Somewhere in the deep of the Arctic Ocean
Seeking their own Beginning
A journey into the deepest depths of poetry also known as The Exposition
For within that setting
At that time and place
They build like master masons
Characters and plots to beguile the watching world like a reborn Dante Alighieri
An occult philosophical theory found in the foundation stones of music and stories
Poetry
Awaiting to be consumed by a new Adam and Eve
In the form of a tempting rust red cherry
Escribe como debes No dejes que tus expresiones se conviertan en polvo.
Write as you you should. Don't let your expressions turn to dust
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy
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