Flat out on your back
Staring at the ceiling
There’s a feeling
Of that same old deja vu
Now the day has come to rest
Get the bustle off your chest
For tomorrow
There is something else to do
Close your eyes my lonely one
Before the rising of the sun
And dream a dream
Under the shades of neon blue
And in those dreams we’ll meet again
Maybe as lovers, maybe as friends
Beyond illusions
Always guessing who is who
I am the eye of the storm
The wind is my song
The rain its rhythm
And the thunder claps
As I approach
Applauding the electric sky
“If only I can make you dream the way I do then destiny will smile upon us all.”
Akin to the sprites
From the land of my birth
She danced, then posed, then laughed
Then curling her toes
Deep in to the sand
She reached out with soul
And whispered her craft
Come with me
To the edge of the desert
In search of wisdom and light
We shall taste infinity
And a thousand other delights
And so I followed her every step
To a place where time was no more
A tangible dream
A delectable scene
The incarnation of some ancient lore
In to her arms
I was bound
As heart and soul intertwined
And it was here
That I found my end
As I faded in to the divine
I’ve had many lives and learned enough lessons the hard way to know when to step back and when to act. Yet here I am. Surrounded by those with one life, one vision and one set way of thinking and I do not know if that will ever change.
Allow me to grant you my rage for a while as I do not need it for the time being.
Be aware however that it belongs to me and I shall remove it from you as I see fit.
“He knows.”
“I know”
“Why is he going along with it?”
“To relive old memories.”
“But his memories are so…this is not going to end well!”
“I know.”
Upon a corner chair made of ornately carved French oak sat the man of the hour. His eyes were but shadows as a single overhead white light beamed down upon his skull and sharpened his features.
He was not alone. Just out of his reach sat a woman dressed in white. Her bare back turned to him, straight and toned from the base of her spine to the arcane symbol tattooed upon her neck. Her jet black hair took the form of an inverted V with tips that disappeared over her shoulders. Her legs were hidden underneath a skirt that sprawled across the floor to form a half circle before her. Upon her lap, between her hands, she held a silver chalice engraved with another arcane symbol. From it slivered a wisp of smoke that rose towards her painted face. She inhaled then held her breathe and time seemed to stop in that instant.
The first ritual was now complete.
“He wants a gift in return for his knowledge.”
“Are you willing to make that sacrifice?”
“He said that it is the only way.”
“Is that so?”
“I am willing.”
“Then so be it.”
The first taste of the flesh is an unveiling of mystery if the mind is willing.
Once the veil has been lifted and the paths to discovery have been followed to the limits of pleasure and pain then a thirst for something other shall manifest.
