Wisp' O' the Will
by Eva Maria Francz Lapthorne
"Candles spent, a waning light.........
shadowy smoke bearer.....
shape-shifting wisps rising higher.....
under moonless night.....
a waver dwells below.....
colour soaked rain-streaked quiver...
window breaks, cracking branches outside....
alive, the energy heavy in symbology......
unreadable texts.....
turning on the corner of their eye.....
power unleashed from vanquished fire.......
one blink, flicker sinking sire...
necromantic wanderlust...
growing quick along shapeless paths....
amongst crafted sconces, hordes of yore....
the wanderer seeks his home.....
unresting spirit, tempting bell tolls.....
will-o-the-wisp is his name......
'a flight through the pane, a wood simmer......
dwelling in smoke of wickery, past your face....
winks the universe and heart, folk believer.....
crests in flames searing heat flow.....
separating air following undertow.....
iris twinkling quells feathering spire.....
gale blows, buckling wizardry....
water quenching, alchemy desire.....
sword and censer, tempting irate.....
sentinel inferno, the watcher's fate.....
icy claim, forward Merlin grapples....
suckling glass palms within.....
hands touch, depths sameness skin....
she meets spell cast, driven sorceror...
from soil, wet earth fresh.....
wooden sceptre taller than third eye hilt....
pentacles drain, feet stained grey....
black light tearing, drown fray, ever down....
cape torn to the heels, draping, dragging.......
bristened hair long, dare disturb...
dusty films, forever kept, left bare.......
simple smile bearing gifts, esoteric fair....
eyes of dark blazing steel.....
whisper secret belongings, richochet......
raven's tome, bound book of leather......
sigils forming, will of those who watch.....
another branch to the fire, wise oak......
fingers drawn, sand mandalas yin and yang......
reaching for my wrist, ghost of the owl.......
doth resist, pleasant tendrils twist.....
master souls unite, blue laser flight......
gaze stone intent and cast upon the flame.....
tame the lingering beings wherein.....
lunisolar temples, my wizard friend....
together burning comets 'til the end.....
forgotten stations, dimmer elation.....
to the view of broken window, sharp raised.....
cliff of heights, bending onto trees under....
sensing call of will-o-the-wisp once again....
not until tempted flames be sent......
godless beasts, only of happiness be true.......
let the curtains shade, whips of grounding dew.....
for starry glimpses of Lord Seftinibarus.......
have yet to be explored, this he'll show.......
crystal balls, a row of glorious splendour....
rainbow circles, future forces limitless beware....
seasoned apprentice, incense washing reality.....
take to the skies, wings held back.....
water soaring off shape changer, black.....
wheeling forestry skimmer, silent.....whistling falls......
dragon's breath present, stonehenge clearing....wait,
taste unsettling emotions, unaware.......
druid enchantment lost....
unequalled by the religions, repaired in place.....
but Merlin and the ghost of the river.....
both remain, descending disciples....
of the earth given to the world...
a time where magic was thriving akin.....
so taunting airless sighs, the magician succumbs.....
levitating the amber crystal sphere.....
to the celestial ceiling of gold....
remembering timelessness giving grasp....
fingernails tear cold respite to the warmth.......
.sending the egg-like shatter, into the land beyond....
cauldron emblazoned, spitting trail sparks....
friendly daemons, loyal to the'nigh....
red scarlet gargoyles, statued seraphim....
speak of ancestry, memories contained.....
pride of the ages, suffer no more losses herein....
revelry caskets, spin the griffin flocks.....
enter overseer, Magi Zanizibarion.....
undertaker sage of the grand poetry keepers.....
concealed knowledges given to high mages....
locks of ebony, drift to your heavenly abode...
hence warlock, you and I, this story, we tell.....
channelling words ancient, unheard transpire....
translated far reaches, to worthy eyes....
long has it been since our last visit.....
please, stay at my campfires, valor of honour.....
runestone I give to you, Eye of Horus.....
link to the star people, the sun god Ra......
to the footfalls silent we tread, for hours.......
this we shall do for a very long time....
indeed, the night shall fall quietly over us....
until the dawn of a new day....
then to your realm, this fire replays.....
he who carries destiny and love, twilight.....
lunar pirate ruler of Pluto's dream span.....
may the journey mark joyous moments....
unto this never-ending spiral....
your familiar creative reign.....your happy glowing smile....
a showering spiritual inspiring flare........
to the four directions of the sun, i share......
dark blue sea, a face to behold.....
galaxies of random star patterns.....
a royal gold map of your ethereal heart......
red eyeballs, that of sea serpentine.....
Kraken's enigmatic mystery and wonder.......
the spoils of this intense nature....
melt kindred thoughts, determined eyes into one....
mandrake root, elixir poured onto hearth.....
gathered around guardians, tensions rising along......
rifts of currents, protectors challenging still climates......
shimmering reality into clattering drum rolls....horns aplenty, Pan and his followers.....
pagan sensory experience, t'will be told.....
Celtic nature devas, entrusting this planet.......
ensuring the positive and negative aspects.....
an equilibrium of balance for the individual identity.....
to be kept here, for wherever i am lead.....
by the steady hand, gripping my shoulder then....
within this disk of bright inflamed arrows....
a portal, the moongate, ordering (beckoning??) us all in....
it is here my brother, encrusted in obsidian.....
the Paladin knight, the avatar of black stallion.....
Aspharoth Zaal-Razchmodaanan reclaims......
hair like the night, down past the floor....
ten feet of spun spider silk, dyed for ritual....
billowing above his head, like a demanding god....
wearing the crown, shiny silver, goodwill resound....
a miniature wand, carrier of fine pyrotechnic display.....
heraldry tapestries, weaving fun within sunken decay.....
those red irises gaze into my own....
once again...heavy with the weary dire goodbye....
even though i shall see him still.....tomorrow....
i can see that deeper in his conscience...
rings an ode to the warrior, she......who wanders the realms of the nether.....
both, side by side, ready to aid one another.....
if need be, like the expectant tear-drop......
Little Hawk, and his past life recognition....
as wizard to his soul, family withhold....
the rest of his tribe, his father....his brother, and his sister...
they all take on many forms....
mostly of their favourite, Native American born.....
but tonight, life has become medieval......
and we have all gathered....
to worship this nightful energy spent....
and like the smoke of a finished candle.......
we rise to celebrate such a worthy occasion.....
so lets back to this tale, shall we go....
ahhhh, upon the dark painted face of stars.....
of crescent moons, rays of the sun.....
lies the red pentagram, in the middle of his forehead...
and as we know, his beautiful shiny hair...
hovers like a wild ghost behind him......
eyes as scarlet as a dark red scented rose......
black thick eyebrows, and goatee chin pierced...a labret ring,
silver essence unique sends....the onlooker into a trance, further....
until she/he is forced to awake.....
to the illusion world, below to the day......
fierce stare unlikened to any other....
and could almost be mistaken...
for a vampire/heavy metal guitarist....
but truly, in his complete form....
he is only such a certain reflection of his own soul...
but one, of many many others.....
so, as he is, i am that he is also, we are similar........
distance becoming sooner now....
celestial amethyst staff growing colder.....
time is getting shorter.......for the working musician.....
and her spirit guide standing before her...
all of my energy has been used up....
writing this eventful poem....
so raise your arms to the wind...
let your feet guide you to the gate......
at the far end of this gothic house....
you will encounter the sleepless forest.....
if you enter the clearing....
making sure to be as silenced as possible....
you'll find yourself watched at the window....
broken as it is, by the noisy branch arms....
of the eerie windswept pines, souls undead.....
don't worry however, you will be comforted....
these spirits of the darkness are greatly misunderstood.....
look through the broken shards of glass...
on the druidic ogham carved window sill.....
what do you see within????......
that is correct, as is everything here.....
the gentle glow of a dying fire cast flint.....
the last curling fog dances of smoke....
the embers of coals, now ash, long since departed....
and you are overcome, engulfed with peace...
spread out your hand and your fingers...
i think you'll find there's just enough room.....
ahhh!! hello, yes you have met me!!!......
once before in your walking dream state....
my name is very well known around these parts....
please refer to me as "Hathforrgar Zhimmerlodiahn".....
or "She Who Bears Spirit Of Four Souls".....
both myself, and Erridannus, the wise hermetic seer...
have a gift, just for you, please take it......
so you like it??? we are impressed by your response.....
in your palm, if you hold it up to the moonlight.....
it shimmers, for it is an amber crystal sphere....
it is also a portal to the underworld, if you need us.......
is shall turn into a will-o-the-wisp and guide you here....."
Cone