In a mythic time

Let us not forget

That we too walk in a mythical time

where fresh breezes from the East

come to awaken the sleeper

and the clear ringing of a bell summons us to distant horizons

where winged horses wait in secret meadows

and golden apples are guarded by fierce dragons.


We too have our battles to face bravely,

and all the phantoms of fear that assault us.

We too must traverse the underworld

and somehow arrive back in the sunlit day

to live out our destiny, to fulfil our sacred task.


The hand of fate and the force of will collide

as we stumble toward meaning

half in blindness, half driven by inexplicable desire.

We sense a struggle of mythic proportions

behind our ordinary lives.


And sometimes in rare moments, we catch a glimpse of a face in the mirror

a face from another time

chiselled from a living clay

imbued with beauty and  inner light.

And we can feel the magic that lives in us.

We who are not mere mortals

but children of the gods

intimately known,

and of infinite worth.


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