Pilgrim III, 2

The wail of the soul is not often heard,
but to those attuned to such things,
it is deafening.

my brother he travels in lands of enlightenment
surrounded by inspiration of god's hallowed grace,
he travel's and grows, his ethic now changing,
he has become an idea walking as a man.

When he returns to the world that bore him,
these travels will show him the beauty of life, the fragile delicacy
of a few moments, the lack of meaning, but the understanding of grace.

I pray for him, as he prays for himself, as we pray for him
I pray not for safety, this man needs no such petition
god chooses those who walk with his purpose.
The serenity of self examination, the crucible of the trial
this man now looks into places once sealed off, inaccessible and hateful,
now open, dealt with, understood, and replaced-
with something new, organic, something not there before.

His soul wailed, and he didn't know how to answer,
he heard it quite clearly, but he didn't know, didn't care to know how to answer,
and then he did, and it was, and it was
he answered his wail and placed a question before himself,
in the place of the past he walks, with his questions
and he sees answers so brilliant that only he can see them
so awfully blinding only he can see them
so personal so fulfilling, palpable only he can see them

this wizard

this undeniable wordsmith, he brings the frame around these visions
and captures them, no coaxes them, asks them to bring into meaning
these things he has seen

this wizard

builds these things, these undeniable truths, unbearable and unanswerable
he pushes them into meaning.

there are no spells here, no incantations- this wizard
cast's no magic. his magic is inherent, his magic is him.