stranger

Here sits a stranger,
a reflection,
of a perfection he wishes to acheive.
Hoping to embody
a fragment of light-
perhaps even outshine the sun.


While sons of past seekers wander 'round;
Their ancestors were
keepers of the keys,
to open mysteries,
beyond second sight,
of What was before anything was begun.


Sadly now the keys
have been passed on,
But the keepers imagine them,
in their hands-
Because matter has dulled their hearts,
and they think they've nothing left to find.


Now they see the stranger,
and he sees them-
But perhaps they exist
on different plains.
Maybe he
has inherited the keys,
Still waiting for history to unwind.


They laugh at the stranger's strangeness,
Living in a past they've left behind.
While he calls them back to gnosis,
To them he's a lost shadow of ancient times..