An Alter Holds A Star Poem by Robert Hilary

The sun comes up. The moon goes down. Three wise man stand at the top of the mountain. On the ground between them, there grows a single rose.the dew is frozen on its snow white petals. Its thorns are proud and true. Buried deep beneath the rose, in the center of the mountain, lies the treasure of humanity, wisdom.

The crystal burns in white fire, the crystal is clear and true, the flames are pure and free. Illuminescents shines. Spiritual. Powerful.the heat is primordial, it touches the soul.the light is of the creator. It awakens. It loves. It burns. So true is its light. Creators power. Creators truth. Creators will.

The golden crown sits upon an empty throne. In a darkened throne room. In an abandoned castle. In the middle of a deserted city. The child enters the city. Wandering alone. Sovereign. Steadfast. He enters the castle, walks to the throne room, and steps slowly up to the throne. He gently lifts the crown, taking a deep breath, the child places the crown on his head. And sits upon the throne.

A distant sun envelops its golden light a crossed the stretching mountain range. The storm brewing in the depth of the horizon strikes the planet with her presence, white lightning crashing the earth, igniting the world in dancing flame.

The stone stood tall, in the face of ages, proudly bearing through the trials of earth and time, its unshakable momentum of stillness.

The stallion stood proud, guardian of the clift top. It peered into the valley its eyes Sapphire blue pools of wild magic. Its hair moving with the breath of the wind.

The ancient rune swam through oblivion. Touching the essence of the world through the emanation of its power. The cosmos shaped it into the light of a thousand suns. Where it gathered into the pool within your mind. To take shape as a weave of your infinite imagination.

Society floats in a cloud above the earth. Rumbling and twirling within itself. Peaces of this roaming story begin where others disappear. And other's begin before they allear. Blocks of this collective cloud fall to the earth below in the form of books. And out of the books falls humanity. To paint the land scape in the evidence of society.

A tree burns. The fireflies dance. A bird white and beautiful. Alight on top of the burning tree. The flames licking its body. Yet the bird remains. Untouched. An image of purity and glory.

The serpent coils around an erupting volcano into the sky where it fixes the sun within its jaws. Parts of its body decay to show the serpentine skeleton beneath.

A bright yellow orb falls into the eyes of a child. Where it takes shape in their mind as a world of dreams.

A white robed spirit stands before a tall and elegant Mirror. Within the glass images of magic existence flash and flicker into the view of perception.

An alter holds a star. Blue silk hovers suspended the visage of a crowned lion illuminate the background.
A lantern lit in the center of a magic circle

A lantern sits lit in the center of a magic circle. The shadows cast by its light take shape as the forms of animals.

A waterfall pours from the top of an old stone tower. The rocks at its base look like heads with gaping mouths that swallow the water