Between the Worlds

Many years ago
while alone in my darkened bedroom
scared of the lack of light
and death's impending gloom
I prayed
my most solemn prayer
that God might banish my despair
and prove to me
there
that night
that death is not
the end of light.

Since then
I have studied
ancient magic's methods
and the reason in theology.
I understand the uses
and how to use
the tools of a ritual
and I have an honor
and truth bound philosophy.

So it is through these ways I come
in hopes of shedding a light on some
of the deviously deceptive
ways of those
who have - in their heart's -
God's will opposed,
his wish,
his most holy plan,
that men may come to know
the son of God is in Man.

What is the power
of the unspoken word?

What is the evidence of things
unseen?

Is there another world
amidst our own,
and where are those who walk between?

From psychotic city
to sacred circle,
from skyscraper to watchtower,
holding tongue
while holding hands,
there are those who would only glower
when watching rites from other lands.

From between the worlds
do I walk and see
knowing that those worlds do not see me,
and from behind their mind's,
while face to face,
I read their thoughts from their remaining trace.

From sacred circle back to world,
through shadow and mist,
from adept receiving the five fold kiss,
to priest,
or priestess,
or learned head,
they seek God in the books they've read.

We are those who
walk between,
seeing all and yet
unseen.
We flourish in the glory
of the faith bestowed,
faith achieved through patiently perceiving
that what we've watched was
deliberately showed
so that the watcher
might start
believing.