THE MYSTERIES

This is the first poem i wrote as an affirmation of my intent to journey along an alternative path in life, written on the solstice many years ago, so hence why i share now.

In the beginning it was just the one verse which i thought about very carefully. My heart and soul were fully committed, and pounding as i crafted these words of dedication to my chosen way of life. I have forever since been journying along this path, yet i and my chosen path have continualy evolved to reflect my most inner and yet outer truths.

The past and future did indeed become one and the unseen has definitely become the seen – yet at this moment in time, to my eyes only. I had no idea at the time where my amazing journey would take me, and it has been truly amazing. 

To become first a Knight Templar Priest, then an actual Knight Templar, progressing to a Knight of other orders is more that i could ever dream of. Yet dreams do become reality if we allow them to, with committment and faith. My dream and path continues to evolve and i will never forget those first determined steps….

THE MYSTERIES

When the midsummer sun the solstice brings forth
And the eye perceives the thinning veil
When the past and future become one
And the unseen becomes the seen.

When the ancient ones do weave their spell
Upon those whom seek to find.
When the mysteries unfold
And some are told of where the hidden secrets lie.

When the magic and beauty of an ancient path
Is revealed before eyes open wide.
When perceptions are challenged by the raising of power.
Now’s the time, now’s the perfect hour…

I tread the path, i do begin….

Updated May 2005/updated June 2020

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

To Claim a Soul

                           simply a love poem….

In the damp darkness of decay, you will find me.
In the corners of the world where no one dares to tread, you will meet me.
In the alleyways of death outside of society I wait.
I bathe in the glow of death and destruction.
I dance in the blood of beating hearts, feeding from their passion and desire.
My human skin is shed, all feelings ever known now gone.
My humanity devoured by demons of a seemingly bygone age.
My soul sacrificed for eternity to gods who once fleetingly trod this earth.
With death, my love, came great freedom, great release and a great desire.
Do I tempt you my love, my dark desire?
Will you bite the ripe cherry I hold in my hand?
Dare you taste the bittersweet juices that trickle down the sides of my mouth?
Surely you are tempted to join me in this dark and delicious world?
If indeed the choice is yours to make.
I will invite you in,
But only when you shed your soul and offer it up for my inspection.
Then and only then shall I decide whether your measly human soul is worthy of my inspection.
Can you take the ways of the dark realms?
Can you forsake your humanity?
Can you live in a world where human life is carrion?
Where an innocent, beating heart is the tenderest and most sought after of trophies?
The alleyways between the worlds are full of discarnate souls who never quite made it to the other side.
Can you bear to hear their pitiful screams, caught between the worlds, no way out?
Can you ignore this nightly carnage as the demons of the earth devour your own?
I watch you nightly through the veil, my sweet and wonder.
Shall I reach out and temp you with sweetness and seduction?
Shall I plant soft kisses upon your pale neck?
Let you taste my hot breath upon your lips?
Offer you a safe haven of warm thighs?
Then reach deep and uncompromisingly into your soul so trusting, to claim my prize?
I play with you, my love.
Meet me half way, my dearest; come to me of your own accord.
Let your own darkness flow.
Don’t let me wrench your soul, as I know I will.
But offer me willingly tonight; the sweetest of things.

I dissolve into the shadows, patient, excited.
I smell you approaching and my dark soul quickens.
I carefully fold my quivering black wings tighter around my body…

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’ 2008

The moon in his eyes……

Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now. A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

Lives in Mono

I watched the people through the glass
Their lives a mirrored reflection of each others
Pale
I stood apart
I cast no reflection
And was glad

Cambridge: March 2017

 

 

Zodiac: an interpretation of Haiku

Also from February’s Allographic Workshop
Seasonal Hauki with the chosen word of ‘Zodiac’

The dark winter skies
Clothe the Earth in icy cold
Zodiac sleeping

Then springtime flies in
Sweet scents and verdant new growth
Zodiac waking

Summer heat, too hot
Desert dry upon the skin
Zodiac listless

At last Autumn comes
All is calm within the skies
Zodiac rebirths

February 2017
“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Ego Derived…..

Hidden within humanity
Are the boundaries of delusion
Held strong by misplaced power
Fed by fruitless fear and lies
In a visionless future world
Hides the deadly chains
The lock and key lost in time
Yet time itself already crushed
Within its own delusion of lies
A fruitless circle of becoming
As the Serpent is fed

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’ at the Allographic Workshop 2017

Who Will Dance With Me?

Who will dance with me?
Who will pluck a rose and place it in my hair?
Who will beat the drum?
Write the words and sing the song?
Who will dance my dance?
Swirl me round the dance floor when the last tune has gone?
Or is it me and only me who knows the tune; can sing along?
Rhythm pounds inside my head
I dance alone;
I dance alone;
I dance alone.

September 2010
“The Keeper of Scolls”

SLUMBERING KNIGHTS

Slumbering Knights from days of old
Mythical Beasts; stories untold
Fact and fiction are bound as one
Truth is hidden by the earthly sun
Dare to see what’s before your eyes
Look to the heavens and beyond the skies
Rhyme and reason is no more
Illusion is bound on these earthly shores
Hear the story; read the rhymes
Take a leap right out of time
The truth is where it’s always been
Yet hidden deep within your dream
With the slumbering Knight
On the shores of time
With the mythical beast
No more seen…

 

January 2017

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Truth is a darkness; suspended in a time that does not exsist…..

Endlessly i fall caught in a chasm of wonder. Spralling onwards

The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul

Sounds of tinkling pipes woven by the winds own charm weave around my soul

Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…

With breastplate and sword I stand steadfast and mighty. In silence i rule

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….

My name is silence only whispered by the wind when the sky is dark

Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..

All secrets revealed, all knowledge known. At the end of days i shall become into being and She will rise within

And so it goes on bood spilled, innocents ravaged man’s death on the cards….

The time is now here for man to be accounted. Too late for good deeds…

Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears. Tis over, all done…

Beach huts hibernate dreaming of hot days and sand. Returning cycles

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth. The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more

Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’  ‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’

January 2017 (All photos and words are original and belong to the author)

The Visit… a seasonal poem

That time around midnight
When the air hangs as cold and as still as death itself.
When the earth sleeps
And only the creatures of the night are out foraging for food.
That was the time
When I saw her.
I had popped out to empty the rubbish.
I had my eyes half screwed up and was hunched because of the cold.
I didn’t notice anyone there at first.
The shadows;
They always seem to come alive at that time of night.
Yet I caught a faint flicker,
A kind of glimmer in the darkness.
Assuming it was light escaping from my half open kitchen door,
I made my way around the side of the house to the bin.
As I came back to the garden I heard a faint sound,
A beating of wings,
Then silence.
Something, I don’t know, made me look up and walk towards the pond.
It was then,
Ten I saw her.
She was sitting on the rockery beside the overgrown heather,
Unaware I was watching,
Staring, utterly enthralled at the snowdrops.
I think she had never seen anything so beautiful,
But then neither had I watching her.
I could hardly dare to breathe lest my breath should give my game away.
Her delicate silvery hand stretched out to tenderly pluck a bloom.
I was unsure whether to move forward or back or just stay there.
Then in that instant,
In that very instant she saw me.
A moment transfixed in time
Lasting an eternity;
Yet in reality a split of a second.
Her eyes pierced mine
And I felt her soul and mine beat as one.
Recognition.
And in that very moment I knew I would never ever see her again.
It was as if she realised then, that she shouldn’t have been here.
Shouldn’t have been seen.
She gave me one last haunting glance
And with a gentle beat of her translucent wings silently faded into another realm.

The air was colder
And stiller than ever before.
A dark void was all that was left.
I walked over to the pond,
There on the ground were the snowdrops,
Strewn as she had left them
In her haste to depart.
I bent over and gently picked them up,
Caressing them against my cheek as I walked back to the house.

A lone tear dropped on to the perfect white petals.
I shut the door as I went inside,
Suddenly shivering.
Then started looking for a tiny vase.

Written 17th February 2003
‘The Keeper of Scrolls’