The Mystic

Picture: Landscape With Wonderer by Thomas Fearnley




Long have I roam’d and spoke in praise of You.

For love of peril, I rode my good bikes

Relentlessly, without a thing to do.

The stars have witness’d me on boundless hikes.


Your silver quill on boughs of linden trees

Do write the verse I cannot seem to read.

Too sharp, too thin, Your hands on wings of bees

Delineate shapes I cannot seem to breed.


But please refrain from thinking humans err.

Perspectives change and rearrange upon

This ball of dirt; they choose what they prefer

In every moment, which rock to roll on.


The end of times is here for You to feast,

The clock is dead, long live the holy beast.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s