Sorcerer

I walk away...

into the night...

to my left...

and slightly behind...

is my death...

we slip silently...

away and away...

across the starlit land...

this gentle guide...

my nagual...

my sorcery and I...

hand in hand...

out there...

in that world...

of sights unseen...

by ordinary men...

there is the old Yaqui...

Don Juan Matus...

is greeting me...

you ready son...

I nod...

believe I am...

then come...

he smiles...

we walk...

across Sonora's...

silent sand...

on our way home...


Written by Bruce James Clyde 2015

Dedicated to a dear friend...the kind you rarely meet...who will understand this thing...if not now...someday...

Art: Carlos Castaneda, by wenbergniklozan