Look into the mirror of your soul,
come see yourself, just as you are!
For the hierophantic spark within
excites us to know ourselves well,
to discover our spiritual heritage,
finally become a magician of sorts.
Jupiter, King of the Gods and Sky,
heavenly witness to solemn oaths.
Inside our dreams the hierophant,
that heavenly channel of wisdom,
papal guide, takes us by the hand
guiding us to our spiritual wealth.
Where intersected keys are raised
to discharge each slumbering soul.
He who avows his quest for Truth.
He who recognises he is not Truth.
Inverted, spiritual lives are sealed,
stubbornly the ego lives in denial.
Master manipulator, he wants all!
Secretive, dishonest and vengeful,
this passive-aggressive evangelist
slips on the Pope’s robes for those
impressed by flamboyant costume.
Locked, his heart no longer opens.
True poetry is a shamanic release.
Words lay sleeping, stuttering to
awaken inside the mystic’s drum,
until rhythm stirs the poet to pen
the symphony of the soul of love.
Within knowing and blessed Self,
the poet travels a holy pilgrimage
on the road to the celestial Lovers.
Copyright © Deborah Gregory 2016