Mystery Machine

His is the voice of reason
When all other thoughts are shaken-
He is the light to my shadows,
The solution to my problems,
The questions unanswered,
He is a mystery.
Is he an angel, a God, a dead lover, or a thief,
Who holds the key to my history?
My instincts say he’s a mortal man,
With a penchant for mischief-
A mystic
With a plan,
Stuck between worlds
He’s devised,
Hiding behind a clever disguise,
Afraid of asking for a reprieve
From the web of lies;
Once cast into the breeze,
Retrieved
By this cosmic spy.

So how can you leave
Me high and dry?

Maybe I’ll never know or understand
Why that door was unlocked,
All I know is when I need
To hear words of truth
And unending love,
There is the voice who speaks up,
He stands for courage and justice,
A resonant stream
Of wisdom and wonder,
Wide, kaleidoscopic eyes
I see in slumber,
Irises shrieking indigo
Like the waves of oceans
And mossy plumes
Of evergreen hues—
He is a mystery machine.

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