Kinship

Eyes closed, silently sitting, waiting for the moment when the hand of God takes its toll and begins to reign. Floating high above the world, scanning , drifting, flitting about aimlessly, till summoned to the destination. Merlin stands before the cauldron, his apprentice watches through narrowed slits that he calls eyes. He departs and scours the woodland regions for herbal tonics , his hand passes over the bark of a tree in the darkest night, his gaze downwards, till it lights upon a blue green fungus, that only comes out at night, and it’s potency disappears once the sun casts it’s glow upon the morn. Summon your knowledge and drink the brew, that your Master taught you, pass it down through the ages to your children. Journey to the gates of Hell, and stand in the screaming silence, and watch the howling faces shrieking in despair. A thousand years shall I reign, in this , the Age of Aquarius, till humanity has learned to Master the dwelling beast within. High above the world, journeying to the lair of Robespierre, and slap the hand upon the table by candlelight, watch as the snares and traps are laid out for the unwary, a tale told by a ragged beggar, on a windswept hill, high above the sea, a tale told through broken teeth and gin soaked lips. Whisper to me old man, and tell, the tale you told the crone in the Inn, or I shall throw you into the briny deep. He comes from the North, some say he rides with Edward, some say Richard, but all know when he arrives. Old man, how will I know when I gaze upon his visage, you will know by his earnest countenance, look to the East, and watch for the dark rider, the one they call the Highway man.