when dragons fly and demons sing...

when dragons fly the ancient skies
and demons sing their lustful cries
 

of her own free will
she’ll lay her down in the waters still
and pray to let them seep right in
way down deep where it all begins
soak right in to her very core
and open wide the flood gate door
where ancient seers have their say
if light will shine another day

when dragons fly the ancient skies
and demons sing their lustful cries

the vestibule...

who knows how many 

fleshly forms the 

heir of heaven 

occupies before 

he can be 

brought to understand

the value of that 

silence and solitude 

whose starry plains 

are but the 

vestibule of 

spiritual worlds

the travelers...

 we travel

some of us

forever

to seek

other states

other lives

other souls

the window...

The soul comes from without
into the human body,
as into a temporary abode,
and it goes out of it anew
it passes into other habitations,
for the soul is immortal -
It is the secret of the world
that all things subsist and do not die,
but only retire a little from sight
and afterwards return again -
Nothing is dead;
men feign themselves dead,
and endure mock funerals…
and there they stand
looking out of the window,
sound and well,
in some
strange
new
disguise -