There she awaits-                                            
    In her jewelled palace far from faded-eyes    
A lily sheltered from the blanket of white;
the air perfume-light from the blossoms,  
                      and a yearning heart -

          Lo!                                                  ­                    
            The silver songs of Robins; the heralds of Winters
              twirl free.                                                            ­            
   Lo!                                                              ­
      A Hyperborean wind is roused from slumber
    and spreads its wings. Leaves drift down are
    kissed by frost; lakes, the woodlands placed
  under your trance. And your vision came to
be - a polished world on a fair day.            
                                         And at a pleasant hour-

Behind these walls is a miles walk
Behind this smile there is a silent talk
Behind me is an open fire
Burning my feelings burning my desire
Infront of me is a wide stagnant lake
That literally looks like a burnt cake
There is this tree that has no leaves
My eyes are open yet hard to believe
What is this place so dead without water?
Written on the rocks were "Place for Slaughter"
That explains why the lake looked dark and dry
This was the place full of blood and innocent cry
When and how this place got so abundant?
Should I stop myself cause I sound redundant?
Why is there dead silence here?
Does it mean my death is also near?
Few steps back I took to look
The wall that stood there terribly shook
And the way back was sealed off by hook
There is no going back I can see now
Something is wrong with this place, what and how?
There is no direction where to go now
A terrible smell is coming from the lake side
Strangely the lake is fuming, I think I should hide...

(II)
I hid myself in the bay of bushes at best
While I waited to see what happens next
The emerging fume, lights on flame
Burning the coal in the lake so lame
I hear a call out of a name
Like it sounded too familiar, it was my name!
Hush comes a voice in my ear
I nearly choked out of fear
Someone held me down to the ground
While the green shrubs surround
Am pushed to an unground tunnel
That is designed so much like a big funnel
I find myself in a small arena alley
And a man sitting with a shaft with his big belly
I am explained of the questions rising in my mind
The magicians wicked widow is cruel unkind
For she has ordered to slaughter everyone
Whoever talks back to claim their son
The wicked widow so now an evil witch
Takes fresh mens blood so to enrich
The legend makes sense do foretold
Now, what I dreampt here unfolds...

(III)
The fancy dark woman with long hair
Braided with jewelry looking so fair
I thought she was a fairy from wonderland
But the truth, a wicked witch of barren land
In my dream, I **** her somehow
But I can't recall anything as of now
The legit people already know my skills
They seek for protection from any more kills
Now I have to recall how I executed this *****
So this land would be free from such an evil witch
In my hair I have a sacret sharp fin of a fish
Given to me by an old sage as a wish
Recalling his spoken words as it goes:
      "...here my child is a weapon
         use this to destroy the happen
         stab this in the heart at noon
         when the sky is clear and you see the moon
         the magicians widow died along with him
         but the evil magic took over her body at dim
         do not fear, for you will win
         just stab in the heart with this fin..."
Out from the ground, walking towards her nest
She was hanging like a bat on the pillars to rest
Very much aware of my presence, I could tell
A siren like scream in my ears was her yell
I needed to close up on her to do my deed
She out numbered me, and grabbed me like a ****
I could sense my fear crawling from behind
There was no mercy or a gesture of any kind
Before she could make her move on me
Dang!
In goes the fin in one spin
In agony she cried with pain
Her body wrapping up in black smokes
While making the air around me choke
I ran towards the lake where I first stood
The wall that was sealed now all good
I made my way out through the wood
And started a miles walk behind the wall
A mythical journey ended with the evil fall
The magicians widow now I recall...


©sim

I’ll never know why someone Loves me,
even if they tell me in their total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true,

so I don’t question Love anymore,
I never ask a Lover if they Love me,
because honestly to me love is a verb,
it’s an action not a title,

when in Love,
or making Love,
or showing Love,
or being Love,
there is no time for questions,
why ruin bliss with curiousity,
why have to know why,
why not just accept and be,

see,

I’ll never know why someone loves me,
even if they tell me in their own total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true,

through,
the Night Sky I fly,
on a flight from Athens to Cairo,
I have a date with the Pyramids,

was only in Athens for one night,
en route from Budapest,
and with all this traveling,
one might ask when do I rest,

yes,
good question,
a much better question,
than “Why does she love me?”,

Why does she love me?

I’d only just met her,
and we’d only just made love,
still she looks at me so deep,
that I swear to my soul it seems she speaks,

and I swear she’d leave,
not even pack a bag,
she would just runaway to the airport with me,
and fly away to whatever destination comes next,

in this case the Pyramids,
and I’d take her I really would,
because I’ve loved and lost enough to know,
that her Love for me is genuine forget the questions,

so I ask,
on the couch,
in that living room,
at that house in in Athens,

“Will you come with me to Egypt?”,

I pray She says yes,
and as I’m asking her that question in Athens,
on that layover to Cairo from Budapest,
her hands I’m graspin’ and my heart is hopin’,
I’m open,
as open as my invitation to her is,
and then She replies,
in words so plain and full of pain,

“I would love to come with you,
but I don’t have a passport.”

And then everything hits me instantly,
so many things become clear,
I see how wealthy I’ve become,
and I see my success through her despair,

there,
She is,
on that couch at her friends house,
with nowhere to go,

watching false idols on the internet,
fantasizing about people I’ve actually met,
and I realize in that moment,
that I’m as close asSshe’ll ever get to freedom,
I am what She wishes to be,
so of course She’d run away with me,
of course She’d explore the world and her dreams with me,
but she doesn’t even have a passport,

and I am at a loss for words,
for me She is just a layover,
no pun intended,
but I wrote it so I meant it,
and as amazing as she is,
she’s just a Greek girl,
an Athenian human being,
but not Athena and the days are over for the Byzantines,

so she’s stuck there,
in that city of Yesteryears,
flooded now with refugees,
while I’m about to catch a flight out of there,

and I want to say so much,
but sometimes there’s nothing to say,
sometimes there’s no more questions,
and all the answers are plain,

so I don’t ask a thing,
I just sit there with here and smoke,
I just bare witness to another girl’s empty dreams,
because dreams without reality are just hopes,

nope,

not going to question this,
I’m just going to write it all down,
as I fly south over the Mediterranean,
in time for a feast in Giza,

and I want to give here everything,
not just a passport but a path to freedom,
but I’m just a bad boy with a good heart,
so all I give her are these words in hopes she’ll read them,

Alexia,
I love you and I’m willing to be patient,
and when you if ever get your passport,
come find me for I’ll be here waiting,
and I can’t promise you I’ll be single,
in fact I can’t promise you a thing,
because an honest man makes no promises,
and the true embodiment of freedom wears no rings,

but I will be here,
and I will accept you in all your Midnight Lights,
and I won’t ask you any questions,
and I won’t lie to you and tell you everything’s going to be alright,

but I will accept you,
in all your Midnight Lights,
and we will just let what we don’t know rest,
and attribute those unknowns to the Mystery of Life,

and I,
I,
I,
I,

I’ll never know why someone loves me,
even if they tell me in their total truth,
it’s possible that even what they believe,
is not exactly totally true…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The Holy Trilogy Vol. 1; Masonic Psalms from Holy Lands
available worldwide 11/11/16
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N3QR3E4

“The power of the written Word,
has just as much to do with the writing it,
as it does to do with the person reading it.”

– ∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆ –

The H Trilogy
volume 1
7/7/16
∆