THE MYSTIC II

A tearless cry is your first silent pledge,

the silver key that unlocks

the doorway to breath, that you may

yield to Fate's Circle.

This herald of your path's commencement,

your newborn wail,

falls through the Sandglass' neck,

raising your spirit into the Now,

into a communion with the Moment

your youthful steps shall forswear,

as you contemplate its fore and aft,

for such is a mortal's wont.

Ponder not Time's flow, but his ubiquity,

for this spiral deity reigns

beside his God.

Aye, he receives the priestess' orison;

his Eye follows the mystic's journey;

his Voice punctuates the poet's praise.

Resonance of their devotion,

pathway and art he gives unto their skies,

that they may bide infolded

in azure troves. These they shall rain upon

hearts that lament the world's tumult,

for such are sensible of the Love

that transforms the spirit's peregrination

into profoundest expressions

of hand and eye.

Therefore, weep, not in despair, but that you

may breathe anew, as an infant

in Time's own arms reaffirming your pact

with Being, with its seeking.

Gather unto you ancient echoes,

for these promise an easing of the Disorder

that dulls Life's silver flow.

Beauty and Truth shall prevail, mayhap under

Stars yet unseen, where you shall

tread plains of joy and sorrow alike in gratitude.

Time's passage shall not measure

your course, nor the whirling of Earths pause

your vessel. Your gifts bestowed

upon the Source shall mark the rhythm

of your soul's eternal flight.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: NIGHT IN THE FOREST

Source: www.pinterest.com

Artist: William Louis Sonntag