The Dweller on the Threshold

In the deadly nightshade of digitalis dreams

the pupils closed so atom tight

n’er to let a single photon pass

to live a life in camera obscura

 

Where nefarious necrophiliacs line all the tombs

to languish lurid in gloom and shadow

each sepulchre tainted by the ochre fading sheath

which sheds the mamba skin scales

both as autumn leaf and lost leper’s fingers

 

Blessed with those primordial cataracts

in the labyrinth subterranean tunnels

ever to walk the fateful string in the penumbra

lest the retinas are scarred by even faintest light

 

By chance the weary Dweller stumbles on

tripping toe-wise onto some carved out stairs

harsh cut deep and in the cavernous wall

a sense of archway, doorway, door

how did he sense the Angel’s spoor?

 

The umbilicus of the vampire darkness

sucks the belly blood fast from him

the succubus’ pull of the old familiar

whispers warnings close his ear

“Step not beyond your cloying fear!!”

 

Sweet honey wafts winsome in the wind

borne hummingbird happy on busy wings

where golden dapples the translucent,

faint feathers of a mountain stream trickle

far from the land of morbid doom and her sickle

 

One more step through that golden gate

and the snap of tripwire seals his fate

a trumpet calls the amphorae of the Gods,

the pilgrim takes a diamond dusting shower

he washes wet in radiance of an infinite hour

 

Far beyond the spectrum of man’s open eyes

he feels that subtle shine of wisdom wise

soothed and healed and now soothed again

he hangs for aeons in the gap between

for dark he knows and light is as yet, unseen

 

The Dweller takes yet more a single pace

to earn the crown of olives, for his race

his heart now facets rainbow light delight

and into the utter radiance quiet easy strolls

the magma of white magnificence does him, now enfold

 

The mellifluous melody of ecstatic shining white

washes the cobwebs and decay of the Lord of night.

He the Dweller is yet a boatman too

he has been both vessel and its crew

between the clashing rocks, the portal

has squeezed him self, a simple mortal

 

Yet further the now enlivened Soul

he marches onwards to his goal

in the pure and white, white radiant stream

at last he has fulfilled his dreams.

The clear-spring clarity now does him fill

he has gained this by both his act and his will

 

Bows before the triumphant triangle, golden ore

he waits as the rod strikes a new lightning sight

it sears his being deep into his very abstract core.

He has earned this most rare and Holy rite

the Rod of Power him has total changed

and all his atoms are most re-arranged.

 

There is The sacred emanation font

where source of stream it can be found

There is not much that needs or wants

for he has sought the simple and the sound

his heart hears what others fail to see

the only block knows he now to ever be

 

The Dweller was always him

and he had sat on the Threshold for,

 … … an endless

endless

… … …eternity.