Saturday, February 6, 2016

Mystic Tidings

A single ribbon of light shot out towards me and I watched.
As it drew closer like a sparkling wave, I waited to reach out my hand.
Suddenly the whole matter of its being dissolved, disappeared and was lost.
I wondered at that charm and how its aura wrapped around a single strand.
And then somewhere I knew, it was another mystic tiding made of dew.

Out upon the fields lay a yellow blanket of budding petals bright.
I saw that I stood upon this ground and I took in a breath of air.
I felt that maybe I should run and abound in such a delight.
Far away I heard bouncing echoes, resonating near an empty grey hall bare.
It was not where I had gone, but the mystic tidings I heard all along.

In the dark shadowy trees I walked, but all was sharp and clear.
A single light that was clean and bluish-white had shown near.
Someone was calling out to me and I thought of asking the name.
For although I never saw a face, I felt no death, a breath of fog came.
A figure in a realm, cautious to continue, following a way through.

Rigid roots of twisted wood seemed so long dead and faded.
It was jarring to witness lightning out of thin air upon the bark.
I stood back and watched silently, it was burned away under skies shaded.
Some sense of daring gave me an inner fire, to burn away the dark.
Then out of murky blue, mystic tidings sprang from shallows anew.

A buried stairway climbed silently under deep, deep grounds.
For a while I stared at the carvings in stone and heard no sounds.
Thinking that I should begin to find the other end of these.
In seeing with one look far ahead I saw that the stairs never cease.
Awkward and exhausting, I thought, but why were these stairs wrought?

Tunnels went in rounded turns all about the jungle-like lands.
Each one only a short corridor and then a corner and then another hall.
And while each tunnel opened on parts of the dense foliage of odd plants.
Somehow within the darkness different echoes other than the wild would fall.
Yet everything seems languid and warm, mystic tidings forecast a storm.

Opened like a gaping hole of cold desert dust, a crater was there.
On every horizon was nothing but the presence of empty space and stars.
Every effort of moving was as hard as it was to breath even a trace of air.
Very thin and scarcely formed, a mystic tiding forewarned.
But all the while I had no fear, as if I held all the cards.

I remember roads that had been dug deep into the soil of earth.
Those muggy trails were like climbing uphill in the sand.
Yet they lead to nowhere one could see, no test to limit one's nerve.
Those paths were more like a hidden passageway that could expand.
Under a single footfall of lead, the mystic tidings were read.

Through a massive house of elaborate carvings of wood and walls.
There ran a deep, murky river and it wound itself through all the doors.
And while I thought it was an ill fate befallen such richly halls,
I saw that the house was empty and suddenly felt foreboding under the floors.
Growing dimmer like a swamp by each chime, mystic tidings of proper time.

Within a gaping hole of a freezing crater I stood once again to see.
Dazzled by the luminous sky, I shook off the cold and began.
Out from nowhere a small wave of light rolled as easily as tumbleweed.
Not with any question did I leap from the thickness of dust and ran.
I will try to recall, so the mystic tidings cannot dissolve at all.
I can pinpoint a place or maybe a word I spoke, and with that, I awoke.



©Iggy 1998

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