Mr Dark Eyes Speaks Poem by John Duffy

Tenebris Oculi (L) AKA Robert Olmstead

(A lone voice whispers)



To all the mysterious souls just lost beyond my second sight and long reach



Hiding somewhere unknown in Father Times long silver grass



Lying scattered across all the bluest of ocean's and before all the greatest of Antarctic lakes



Quietly reading and trying to compose inspired poetry



Beseeching their inner minds great portico to quickly open



And spill forth



Secretive words only once whispered and spoken in the darkest of corridors



Celebrating the festival of Karneia on the fourth



By the Pythia to bathe within its spectacular potency



In ancient Apollo's

candlelit yellow temples in Pompeii



In cold wintery nights



May these channelled words find a way



To weave a magical spell to beguile your own inquisitive mind and everlasting soul



To be slowly opened up with Apollo's ritual athame everywhere you go



For you to then find the courage to breach your own inner great gates



To finally find and drink from that mystical ever-flowing well



Found in the centre of all things



By only the true believers like you and the many travellers of the profound



Seeking to taste whatever their spirits really desire and then hoping to make the return journey home



Filled and sated and dancing mentally to a new sound



Announcing the arrival of their life's only holy obligation



To then write profusely



Be it at midnight or throughout the long days



Recalling and narrating the many sacred strands



And complex explorations of the many layers of human emotions



That comes smiling or snarling their way



From those just hidden beneath all blue and green seas



The Great Old Ones



So be it



Copyright John Duffy