The visit to Monique the Medium on Christmas Day

(A channelled voice whispers)


Every clock in here
These old faded white wooden ones
Hanging on so many burnt out trees

That litter the pathway
As they tick
Remind me of you

Every single second
In every single minute

Carries luminescent memories
Of all the wild but lovely things
We used to do

As they suddenly manifest

Like a magician's trick
Right out of the blue

And if my broken heart could beat
Could scream to the high heavens

It would carry drum beats of such irreversible revelations
So true

I would die once more
In palpable bliss

If I could write a parable
It would only be

I yearned once for a touch of your silky skin
And a taste of your red lipstick

But got distracted
By the sweet voices

In this darkness
That strives

All good things to
Underpin

And now
In here
The Great In-Between

My parable
If deciphered by an illuminated one, would read

If love is offered
Freely and
Willing

Clasp it
Hold it and treasure it

And it's why now these sparkling twinkling lights
Dancing before me

Reflections of you
Shine so brightly in this ever-hot dust
From dawn to dusk

Showcasing your beautiful image
To the empty husks
Of the Ascended Ones

Night and day
That litter the roads and pathways

Some in here call
The Lord's Way
Come what may

So while the Baylore energies
Magnify my thoughts into these words

Through Monique
Like a soft fingertip across your warm spine

I'll see you soon
Skyclad in blue
In your deepest of dreams

Wide-eyed
Mighty and free

Where we'll be reunited once more
But not like Orpheus and Eurydice

To be snatched away by a lack of trus
But forever

And that's why
My love

I still see your reflection
In these embers
In this everlasting dust

In every single second
And minutes

As these tired old wooden faded white clocks tic
From dawn to dusk

as I walk pasy
The Ascended Ones
Husks



(C)
Copyright John Duffy