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,
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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