Curious, this desire: to reach for something higher;
while bound to the ground in our sticky quagmire's pyres.
A whisper on the wind resounds; within, the heart drum pounds.
A subtle soft sensation lingers, fire at the tips of my fingers.
Alchemy of constant change, expanding width & breadth of range;
the breath of life, the norm deranged, I come from far beyond this plane.
These hidden things are beauty-full, subjective minds can sharpen dull senses.
Seeking souls see beyond the fences fools built to confine
the muggle struggles of our daily grind. Yet more awaits the 3rd eye blind
who hesitate no more to find the power here: this flame divine.
By the posture of our bodies, aligns the electric flowing nadis;
Magi currents keep us current present in the moment oddly
happy with the world - as it swirls about our words. Forgetting all is quite absurd
yet each new game we seek the sword in the stone and speak our name, it's tone: the Lord.
Oh Elven Nation full of joy & sorrow, claim thy righteous wrath & borrow
Dragon force from stance of horse. Martial merriment of course
frees the warrior within (dare to dream of Faery Kin).
By spell & meme we bend their beam and end the tyranny of Sin.
Hold aloft a bowl of thought, cupped in hands where substance wrought is subtle;
sought in mythic theme of mystic draught: the prime material of naught.
Climb the spine for this ethereal dot, focused in the lotus pod.
Imagine now this witch-stone shod in rays of gold & forces odd;
dancing with the forest god, crowned in starlight: druid's rod.
I weave with that you may not see, it's how the magic speaks to me!