“The Rose Mystic”

I travelled from afar.
I grow weary of the long and lonely travel.
I wish for a place to call home.
I wish for a place to keep my memories in.
I wish for a place to grow old in.
I wish for the comfort of one in my days ahead.

My weary bones ache, so soon I will seek a place to sleep.
The night draws her dark curtains around me.
I lay down to sleep having found a shaded place.
The warmth of the campfire spreading around me.
Once a long time ago dreams of peace filled my mind.
Now the dreams of war fill my mind.
Silent I wish for a dream of old.

From far I see you.
You stop before me, straight and tall.
You dare come closer.
Do you know what you close to?
Do you want to be associated with the likes?
Have you not heard the deeds?
Have you not seen the fear in others eyes?
Look closely what do you see?

Your eyes twinkle, your smile reflected in your eyes.
Your soft features swimming before my eyes.
I try not to look, but my eyes are drawn to yours.
Your gaze stripping away the walls and shields around my inner world.
Your eyes reflect what you see.
Your face reflective of the emotions you experience from me.
Your minds voice in my mind softly saying.
“Seek what is deep within.”
“Things are not what they were.”
“Things are not what they seem.”
“Remember who and what you are.”

Comfort I feel when you are near.
Peace in my mind and soul.
The last of the walls and shields fall from me, I am before you.
This is a dream of old for my inner world resonates with it.
You show me as I was, before the wars, before the walls, before the shields.
Your touch waking the trueness, hidden and protected that is in me.
Deep within I see what is meant to be, who I am, what I am.
Knowledge gained of the deeds done.
Knowledge gained of the deeds still to be done.

Your fingers leave my face, your smile softer, and your eyes loving.
Love spreads from you like a blanket filling me.
You turn, smile and are gone.
Yet I still feel you close to me, enveloping me.
I hold my hand out calling your name, distantly I hear you say.
“Slumber in rest old wise one, for you will now remember who you are.”
“Welcome back, this world has been too long without you.

I turn over in my slumber, my eyes opening,
Morn has started, with wisps of gold and red on the horizon.
Looking around me the once scorched, dry land is now filled with colour.
All around are vines of red, blue, yellow and violet.
Smiling I sit up, the soft fragrance of roses in the air.
Standing I shake off the last sands of sleep.
With purpose, I set off.
With need, I will do the deeds.
I am the one with the power of the rose.
They will no longer fear me.
They will no longer shun me.
Listen for my deeds; write songs and stories about them.
For I am the “Rose Mystic”