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Warnings of Awakening

On the Trail - World I She was called ‘Old Crone’ She most assuredly fit most people’s perception of one. Stooped, shuffling along in a long black covering She seemed to soak in any light, even from a naked Sun Well hiding her hair, which in greasy looking tendrils Stuck loosely out from her hooded head Laying on her cheeks and like long, greasy noodles Hanging down onto her neck which was blotched in red Her nose taking over any attention left Craggy and long, probably broken a few times in the past. She appeared quickly at the edge of the meadow Quickly making her way around the perimeter fast Taking little notice of me Except for a furtive glance or two. Curious, I decided to follow At a safe distance of course (wouldn’t you?) One never knew... Stories said there were witches about Powerful ones, and this one Oh yes, this one, seemed to fit that bill. I followed at a safe distance into the woods Then out walking, headed up a rather steep hill Not really knowing if she knew of me tailing or not For it seemed fairly too easy to track her Even at this safe distance. If so, she didn’t show she cared with any resistance And why should she… For when she came to the edge of a high embankment She stopped, turned, and looking over at me Said in a distinct, clear voice without any fear “You! Know, It is coming.” And then simply disappeared. _______________*_________________ On the Higher Trail - World II The monk had been walking for days His orange robes were dusty And only a shade of their past, more vibrant, color With the trim at the bottom frayed With threads hanging out from the wear and tear From frictions between feet and uneven ground. If he was cold, it didn’t show Though the steam that came out in a misty stream As he breathed out his blessings old Told of temperatures... chilly at best. He came up to a rocky outcrop And seem satisfied that he indeed had reached a high altitude As looking off down into the distance He looked at the fields of clouds Laying like a landscape below With multiple triangles of various mountain peaks Poking through as they marched off silently into the far distance. A sudden breeze blew unexpectedly From an entirely new direction That caught him by surprise Glad he was, chuckling That he was not caught standing at the edge Turning quickly, he began walking smiling In the direction the wind dictated. A lone eagle gliding above Gave out a long call, as he muttered to himself... ‘Yes, I know.. It is coming.’ _____________*_______________________ World III The rich man laid his lit Cuban cigar in the ashtray And read again the results of his trading activity Over the last week ‘Ah’, he smiled to himself, murmuring ‘A very good week’. He got up, walking across the large marbled floor Finally making up his mind. Yes, he was going to have it all taken up Wired underneath, and then placed back A heated floor Looking fine, especially with the gold grout he had in mind. No more cold floors, and with thermostatic control About time, he thought No need for socks either. His man-servant came in Offering him his morning Bloody Mary. ‘Did you find the right pickle spear this time’ He growled at the man ‘I am sorry sir,’ the man replied, ‘the store was out.’ Bristling, he downed half the drink Then disgusted, threw the rest, glass and all Onto the marble floor Where it all broke and splattered into pieces. ‘Terrible’ he thundered, ‘Who can drink this swill?’ Turning back, walking to the ashtray, he picked up the cigar. After blowing out a few clouds of smelly smoke Without turning to even look at the man He yelled.. ‘That’s it! Fired’. Turning, he look at him to see his reaction ‘Get your stuff together, you’re through here.’ Surprised, he saw the man only smiling at him Then begin laughing. ‘John,’ he said, daring to call him by his first name And without the Mr.? John stood there so stunned He had to remove the cigar From his mouth, to keep from choking on it Such arrogance, who would dare? ‘John,’ his servant said ‘It’s OK. I was coming in to hand in my notice anyway.’ ‘You see, It is coming… finally.’ As he turned, and walked out of the marbled room. ______________+________*________________________ World IV - Oh sit me silent Oh sit me silent Demand me... speak to you From wisdom’s well Of deepest secrets, few men tell. For those that seek truly Quiet, humbly, searching they No laurels for the grabbing Just quiet pleading... ‘Show me the way’. In quiet home, with storms outside Unafraid from chopping wood To with warm fire, then inside, abide Letting forest solace spirit, in shelter good. While deepening thoughts settle in, and linger In elsewhere mind-places opening at hand Inviting spirit to fly in unencumbered To Travel free... in new opening ‘other’ lands. Where forest creatures go playing gladly And pet cats and dogs spend time there, away. Giving them the rest, to come back and struggle In the hurdles we create, in this earth-bungling play. So here it is, a greatest secret found There are two of each, in any me that roam With I right there as conscious observer Laughing naughty, at things the two have sown Thinking me past, I’m only one To act your druthers with I spirit, chiming in, in fun Gaily add what was coming. Whoa, that enough I see... we’ve just begun A rhythm started, another higher Wheel spun. And think I back in the Worlds I see What warnings were given As said to me It is coming… now... let All be.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 4/24/2021 7:06:00 PM
Brian, World I held my attention, but then I began to fade. I think you write very, very well, but, truthfully, I enjoy much shorter works. My bad!
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