filter

when I was a child, my aunt told me

that if rain fell while the sun was shining,

it meant the Devil was beating his wife

I never had the slightest clue

what it meant 

but today, 

it may just be true…

for the sky drips purple wax 

on slippery horizon

flickers bright with 

wick dipped in fire,

angels of sun, 

showering out plumes 

of fractal light

something vast, immense 

holds space between sparse clouds

a light spray of water 

cascades over my vehicle 

and busy spirits of air 

float and move about,

vying for better positions

I move intentionally, 

purposefully through the scene,

hurried to escape a day

that will not be missed

hurdling over a variety of nonsense

machine churns over road…

not as fast as I imagine it should 

not enough ground 

falls between myself and 

all that I seek 

to leave behind

I am allowed to briefly glimpse 

a pristine, white mare 

eating peacefully in the pasture 

by the side of the highway

she is without blemish 

and without any earthly substance

she is something etheric, 

angelic and full of joy

(or so I imagine her to be)

she never sees me

she has no idea 

who I am 

and so… I am 

utterly and completely 

jealous of her

I have not been filtered 

through the windows of her eyes

I have not polluted the peaceful

realm of her mind

with all of my chaos

there is, for her, 

only eating and walking 

and other things 

of equal pleasure

she has no idea who I am…

and neither do I

still, I drive by 

and for something 

not exactly a second 

and not quite a lifetime,

I live vicariously through her

perhaps the breadth of a heartbeat

in looking on her, 

tasting the carefree grass of her world,

I am for one, solitary moment, 

free from Samsara

I have no hurt, no rage,

only a sky full of purple wax 

and preoccupied angels,

angels who watch 

over the quiet beasts 

that are the mare 

and myself

angels who possess 

wider eyes

eyes 

that screen out the dross,

placing a clearer lens over it all

I breathe in my quick look 

at what serenity is dancing 

just beneath the veneer

and for a frozen moment, 

the mare and I 

are both

full


Copyright 2020

Magus

(Kevin Trent Boswell)

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Conjure Work


I am getting back on to my Patreon page at https://www.patreon.com/magus72

I’ll be cross-posting here, what I publicly post, over there. But other, patrons-only content will be available to patrons, there.

Author: Kevin Trent “Magus” Boswell

I coined the term Conjure Coaching to capture what I do, which is to utilize my tool box of skills to help people get what they need, be that tarot, astrology, Strategic Intervention life coaching, NLP, trance, spell work or the kitchen sink.