Let me go Let me run in the early dew To brush against the laurel’s leaves Tread the cool earth’s cushion And linger in the dampness of the silent wood.
Before the cooing of the collared bird, The bite of the new day’s busy-ness, Its threats and promises, Breaks into the stillness of my morning world And ruptures this mood of mystery Of thrill and almost menace, Leaving me to face another day of reality One more acceptance of the wrenching truth.
Magic is the catalyst for change It stirs the open mind Bringing meaning to Mystery Blessings to Belief
And when the cauldron of mist is stirred Then both the Gloom And the Glitter are captured Restrained Resuscitated Then allowed to flourish
To become hope for the future Of the world’s Sorcery The creation of a new reality The super and the supra-natural essence Of what has been The foundation of what will yet be Channeling the birthright of an abiding And more fulfilling Necromancy.
I am Roland or I have become him created the myth of Mr Keld opportunity taken I have procured my host’s mind now an alien presence absorbed into this foreign body diverting thoughts rebuilding a past guessing at a further future a variant stated truth inhabiting a different reality masking neutrality approval seeking in a subsumed persona a manufactured myth ambushed by his muse Roland of Roncevaux reconvened brandishing Durendal to fight new battles forever a mask behind which to hide a second rate hero his fable exposed another fiction masquerading as truth
Poetry bestrides the boundary Between certainty and supposition Between what I know to be true And what I know not For imagination conducts me into new worlds Lands of hope Of surmise and conjecture Where speculation surmounts reality Where inference and suggestion rule And life is vibrant and ever vital