Remembering slowly the tales of old
The ventures through the darkness wearing a different form of clay
Different parameters to the 'now'
Still being the same inside, unchanged.
And those times seem so distant, so far away, so separated from now
But the knowing within concedes they really exist
Forgotten melodies reaching out ... strange faces peering through the liquid mirror
The child waking in the night ... screaming ... crying through a nightmare
Distortions of those half remembered places ... disembodied recollections haunting the blind
Yet, the brainwashing satans of this world decry through their agencies ...
Claiming reincarnation is a lie ... I hallucinate ... I am dangerously delusional
The halls of the sanatoriums filled with the clay forms of the unfortunate ...
Those poor souls who glimpse further into the real past than the ministers of evil wish.
Remembered, the first light of a last day
The feel of death as the cold blade of steel runs a form of clay through
The light surrounds and the truth returns ...
I see a lone mountain ...
I hear my name being called, whispered by a familiar voice
I see the lake there and the township of a simple life beside
I recall the disaster I had run from, and the crossing of the deadly seas
A journey from a far distant land to this place of legend ...
To create a new life on a new shore ...
I gaze across to the heavenly expanse of blue
And see through a myriad of eyes that wondrous hazy sky ...
This earth ... this place I have returned to many, many times.
I ask why ... and then realise the thrill of life and its encompassing mysteries
I am a bard of the mysteries
A magician of the spoken word
I have the power to help them recall ...
I can send them soaring as the eagle,
I can plummet them to earth with a broken wing ... to die crushed on the screes of despair
I have that power and it comes from all my other lives ... all those other faces
It empowers me to remember and to help them remember.
Written by Matthew James - originally posted Sunday 5th November 2006
