The Traveler

I am a traveler,

I have watched the grand passage

Of times most intimate details.

I have looked into the darkness

And seen in its brilliance,

That light once pierced would not,

Be taken away by darkness.

I have moved in the circles of angels,

Their wings light and airy,

Touching only the skin in soft

Sensuous touches.

I have had congress with the fallen,

Those who in a moment of weakness

Did not see the passage of truth

And grew from their weaknesses.

I have watched the monster,

Though he may be not so monstrous

Once my sword writes his name

I have seen the ancient past

Where magic and wisdom in moments

Of domination became religion and belief.

Why do I travel? Well my friend,

My travels are my own,

A lone quest, a journey for answers,

The questions? Not important.

I will know them when the answers come,

I will see when the glow of remembrance

Has finally faded into antiquity.

My footsteps long faded into dust.

My passage is time, a simple

Yet insurmountable foe, where

In the brilliance of a moment, all things

Are revealed within their truths

And I, the traveler, move on.

Authors Note:  This one came in a final push so I didn't edit it much.  Perhaps I will in the future.  This is what a first draft looks like.

Na Ríthe Teaghlaigh

He walks the line

A form made of brilliant light

And impeding darkness

Bourne from the misery of one existence

Into another

Doomed to look into the eyes

Of those who wronged him

And whisper forgivenesses.

He is a seeker,

Moving from passage to passage

Searching for that which is lost

And somehow waiting, to bring it home.

He is an advisor,

With quiet words and simple wisdom

Never extending his power

Beyond that of the tiniest brush

Of the lips.

He is a warrior

Strong and stoic in his brilliance

Waiting watching

Keeping safe those who protect him.

He is a fool,

Making his merry path

Learning from the mistakes that

Like so many others, have gone before.

He is a lover,

A slow sensual being,

His heart, given to that which

Would become his existence

If fate would allow.

He is a healer,

Mending the broke heart

With the lightest touch

Of feather wings

And stars within the sky.

He walks among the blades

As if they would not harm him

He takes his rest in pastures

Where evils dare not travel

One set of eyes on the road ahead

Another set on the road behind

He rests, He waits, He heals.

And in the moonlit stormy night

When the minds nativity

In its moment of opulence remembers

He will be there.

Hand out stretched

Waiting, waiting, for the moment

When all will finally be well.

Authors Note: This is a new piece that I hope you enjoy it.  I look forward to any comments that viewers may make.