Magick - Poetry


 

The gods of old speak to me.

I refuse to listen, simply because I've got

better things to do.

They tell me to listen, Childe. Listen and understand

that you are finally free to believe in us

again.

I raise my head and scream - how dare you!

How dare you tell me to believe in you

when that's all I've done?

Because I believed in you,

I was led astray.

The gods fall silent, yet I am not done.

I listened to those who were touched by you.

I wanted to follow in their footsteps

but instead I was mauled, raped, manipulated,

and spit out over and over.

Why should I believe in you

when you've shown me nothing but darkness?

The gods ponder my heated words and leave me alone for a while.

When they return, they speak as one:

We showed you magick because you are a part of it.

You listened to others with the same colours

only they have lost their way.

They showed you their version of what we are

but mangled and tangled and unable to be set free.

You saw through it and walked away

and for that, we are still with you.

We still love you.

Tears fall down my face;

I was right all along to leave when I did.

One of the gods holds out a hand for me to take.

You need no master, it says with kindness.

Turn inward and see your magick spilling over.

Turn inward and be who you were meant to be.

I take the hand. I walk alone.

I am of Magick. 




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