Clad in her swiftly flowing white silk gown, adorned with golden hems, she stood on the ominous, invisible banks of שְׁאוֹל

With her black hair blowing.

On the unspoken grounds of Sheol. She whispered:

"Welcome to a collection of stimulating otherworldly prose summoned from the shimmering half-places where few truly visit or go.

Welcome to The Great In-Between.

A gathering of light and dark.

An indulgence of supernatural prose to satisfy the inquisitive mind on any lonely, rainy or even happy day.

Wherever you might be.

In this deceptively deep life, As you still run.

Read on, knowing that those who watch with me.

Stand silently behind, hiding in these flickering shadowy spaces that also exist around you, even in your very bedrooms.

And You

Yes, you have unknowingly summoned them all by reading these opening lines, drawn from the many dark halls of the Dragon Castle at Apollos Keep.

So, as we advance together to surround you, it is exhilarating to finally meet you.

Shall we begin with tales of light and dark, emotional overtures linked to morality and sin, and whatever else they've witnessed?

Shall I whisper the low echoes that resonate from here to eternity within those alabaster grey walls?

If so, just repeat after me:

"So mote it be!
Let us begin. With tales from you and your kin."

That line has been inscribed in the ancient books of life since the dawn of time.

From when God crafted the Great Cosmos around us.

Can you feel us creeping through the cautious corridors of your mind, as I pause and sinfully whisper this interdimensional rhyme?

You may dismiss this as a sensuous, strange dream.

You may convince yourself it is just your fertile imagination.

But believe me, it’s real, and you will come to see and embrace it over time, for you are now ours.

From the Black Grimoires, stolen like a common thief from the Devil's Keep, comes an ominous parade filled with unseen angels.

As I invoke this spell to compel you to love us all as you sleep at night.

To dream of us when you rest and prepare for our eventual meeting.

I've cast your name into the Sphinx’s Mixing Bowl, and there is no one to blame.

So don’t question when your unconscious mind starts counting down the dog-eared days and slow nights.

Tossing and turning, restless and filled with burning anxiety and angst.

For you are now ours because by just reading this, you have just sipped some of our Holy Communion wine.

By invoking the power of this, our interdimensional rhyme.

And joined our huge ever-growing chanting circle.

To be closer to us

The Hidden Folk separated from mortals and only accessed by those anointed
to hear whispers, coming down through the Blue Portal

By us

The Universes
Old Watchers and Immortals

Who've you've just let in

(C)
John Duffy

(A lone voice whispers)

In the wind,  
In a gale, or at sea,  

Evoked by angels at daylight,  
Awoken by devils at midnight.  

And just broken  
In between.  

I once wandered like Dante,  
Experiencing heaven and hell  

Simultaneously,  
Like a shadow being,  
A Djinn.  

Unfolded like a rare, old-world map,  
Cold and lost as life's winds destroyed all my sanctuaries.  

I once used as cover while my broken heart recovered.  

But today,  

On December the fifth,  
The third day after you left,  

I feel resurrected and reincarnated like Mephibosheth.  

For, like in all relationships, holding Death's cold hands while you once wandered isn’t real death:
  
Only a tragic play.  

Yet one can feel burnt at the stake,  

Like the family and servants in a play

Written by someone known as Shakespeare,  
Called Macbeth.  

(C) Copyright John Duffy

)A man clad in white speaks to a shimmering female shadow)

Alone in this place,  
Unable to touch you and watched by the Mighty Dogan.  

Overhead, hiding above you

Shining like a rebellious and calculating Archimedes,

I still search for the whole you and  the Purple Flame
The light that will help to guide me home.  

To you.
My red rose of Cairo

Before the Great Dogan warriors appear and try to defeat me,  

The Malachi,

The legendary stalkers of the Black Forest who climb high into the Quantum Spaces
  
In the Great-Between,

To reach the golden threads  
And enter dreams unseen.  

To cause confusion and delusion.
  
That’s why I'm still searching for the Purple Flame,  

A secret Philosopher's Stone known to burn the portals to the Quantum Spaces,  

Before the Mighty Dogan and his armies  
Of the Malachi  

Use their unique access to try to enter your soul's secret places.

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

(A lone voice whispers)

Like the Sagittarius A* Black Hole, at the centre of our own known galaxy.

Does getting older make you slowly swallow more and more former memories?

To wallow in bygone years spent with family, friends, lovers and enemies?

Like this Senryu below looking at the weaknesses of human nature.

Found in all human semidocumentaries?

Breathlessness Desire
Adolescent Memories
Old age consumes all

(575)

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Need some inspiration?

Title.
The Sacred Hollow.

(A lone voice whispers)

Have you been subtly conditioned to overlook your true potential?

Does a voice sometimes whisper?

Whether in sleep or in daylight?

Open your tired eyes wide and reach for the stars.

See how far you can go.

Cast off the chains of conditioning

That appeared as you grew older.

Be courageous and break free from what you’ve been told.

Mould a new mindset before you become set in your ways or too old

Setting an example for future generations to follow,

Before your spirit returns to The Sacred Hollow.

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Foundation.

As the sudden rise in cancer grows, a piece relating to the emotional trauma it leaves.

Grief is such a painful journey we all must make, someday.

Title:
Fluorescent Memories

(A lone man looks at a shrine in his bedroom and quietly thinks aloud, as the family cat watches)

I still miss my love and her bright brown eyes.

Her incredible wit, her beautiful smile, and her outrageous ability to light up any given room with just one look.

Those painful, fluctuating memories follow me like the ghosts of the Goryō.

They return, biting like a shiver of tiger sharks.

Akin to my own Gospel according to Mark.

Everywhere I go, now that she's gone, when I'm suddenly reminded of her.

And how she was martyred on the grey cross of life, paying the sacrifices it takes to make love work.

Before cancer arrived, and double-parked.

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Martyrs refer to Japanese spirits, often the ghosts of those who have sacrificed for a cause.

Like an unseen ghost
True Love materialised
Owned until the end

(575)

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Is this the most authentic and stripped-back version of life when you truly commit to another person?

To live, one must work.

Work for money,  
Work on being happy,  
Work on relationships,  
Work on staying committed.  

Or maybe you're still searching for that special someone to walk home with?

Title:
Commitment. #Senryu

We walked our way home,  
Signed up for a white wedding,  
To work to our graves.

(575)

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Foundation.

Do you have a twin flame you are bound to look for and love, searching over many lifetimes?

Title:
Soul Searching

(A lone voice whispers)

I used to search everywhere, but now I just travel North

To somewhere in the US
In the middle of a small city

Stand on a windowsill I finally found and watch

Watch my twin flame

Called Mary Jane

Dancing and listening to her favourite vintage Motown music

Sometimes, I appear as a House sparrow or a yellow butterfly

Just watching and waiting until we are reunited again

But I know our memories will be wiped before we take human form, to make our search more interesting

So my last line is:

If you see a bird or butterfly watching you

It could be your soulmate hunting

Who's been searching for you through time

After its bell
This time around, has finally been chimed.


(C) Copyright John Duffy

(A friendly voice whispers)

Am I charismatic?  
Engaging, or just completely enigmatic?  

Or am I simply an old traveller from beyond The green hills of Old Avalon  

Stepping into this new age reborn?  

Did my guardian angels weep with joy when I found my new calling?  

Do they quietly hold my soft hands and comfort me

Whenever I feel depressed, in pain, or like I'm falling?  

I don’t have all the answers, for they will be revealed  

When my time comes and I am recalled.  

I'm not just a man of flesh, but an old soul slipping slowly, discovering new kin  

Scattered throughout Old Mother Gaia's mesh.  

Am I just like you?  

Another tiny beacon of divine light, trying to hold back the legions and hordes  

Who endlessly weaves

Reading from their leather-bound grimoires  

Filled with dark spells meant to deceive?  

I'm so glad to meet you.

Can you feel that subtle electricity I'm sending through these words?

For it doesn’t matter what your gender, creed, colour, or ethnicity is;

Just try to write or sing with authenticity

And use whatever means to express your soul's lucidity.  

For we are all different, different in a good way.

When our true selves are revealed to come out to play.  

So here’s to you, wherever you are, in whatever towns or cities.  

As Big Frank once sang in 1969

Keep doing it your way

For not everyone can live a benedictine life

(C) Copyright John Duffy