Between day and night, Where life and death approach, Is a realm within the twilight, That suspends all but the perfect, Amidst a purple light, Which is both warm and cold, Knowing equal pain, and delight, For what can begin, Must also end.
At the end, all is bound, In golden light, For to love death Is to admire life, As both are the same, Which through perfection Must be, United.
The rain returns To serenade me, As I sit amidst a drought, Of life, Whose roots dig desperately To the past, Wherein the scent of perfect days Is returned from desiccation, By simple droplets; Each a looking glass, Into avenues I long to walk again.
I sit in silence Or thunder and rain, Pulled there by a desire, Which seeks to manifest, Along paths that few invest. With incense and flame Or daylight and breeze, The power never wains, For as with eternities long gone, We are still with Magick at one With each breath I then pull… Continue reading Magick of Eternity
Whispered through the leaves, Is a song, Caught only by memories, That lean into notes, Of times that were, Wanton for more, So that the song will continue, Longer, Until days are no more.