Mike De Moor
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Fade into Astral Light

3/12/2020

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I came to disappear in astral light, 
to run with such speed
    that I leave all gross matter behind, 
        leave behind that angry young boy 
            who grew too weak to stand, 
            too heartbroken to smile, 
            too weary 
            to climb back 
            to all the dreams
            that used to surround him-
                all the dreams
                that ran through his veins
                day after day, 
                night upon night, 
        All those astral wanderings that showed him
        how to fly like the birds across the morning sunrise, 
    the way he did 
    before his wings were clipped 
    by malevolent mistakes 
    on this Earthly plane 
    of physical enslavement. 

I came to disappear in astral light, 
to explode in a coma of psychic calamity, 
    to disappear, 
    to hide inside, 
    to pierce the veil of this two-eyed mind.
I came like a shadow, 
like wind, 
like smooth glass
upon peaceful fire, 
like the whispers of secrets 
    told by slanted-lipped phantoms
        on the other side of the mirror, 
            where the crystal shines 
            across rainbow skies 
            in the sun soaked minds 
                of those who surrendered eternally to light, 
                those who vanquish demons, 
                        who guide vagrant spirts 
                    trapped inside this sphere
                    with compassion,
                    with great patience, 
                    with a calm inside their bones, 
                    who listen closely as they draw near,
                    who hear them coming
                    through the ringing in my ear. 

I came to disappear in astral light, 
to find each vagabond piece of my soul
    that got lost wandering through the ether, 
        trying to find its way home, 
Fore within us all 
    there is an infinite traveler 
    that has wandered throughout time, 
        A traveler 
        who has befriended demons, 
        witches with kind and cruel eyes, 
        white and black wizards,
        and hounds with horror in their cries,
        A traveler  
    who has died and been reborn
    many, many times before, 
    who has disappeared completely, 
    returned and transcended their flaws, 
        A traveler
    who has reverted back to his vices 
    between fading in and out from black, 
    who remembers and forgets
    like some haunted amnesiac, 
        and the wheel turns,
        Oh, 
        my goodness, 
            the wheel it turns,
            the wheel it turns,
                and turns 
                and turns
                and turns. 



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