The Cloaked Man turns its head

silently searching, examining,

and in response to my inquiry

he casts from Darkness a gentle fairy.

And the golden powdered angel leads me

across dunes of colossal height,

meandering across sidehills of fine sand,

hurrying now, afraid to be left behind.

And as the Cloaked Man fades out

and I am blessed by the magic grace

of a creature of indeterminate birth,

the sky lightens up, stars falling out,

and the Heavens are split in half.

A fierce Moon, ready to charge,

 laid upon the most dark and wonderful blue

faces a Bright Star, so bright but

 so kind that any kind of eyes

are able to gaze upon it, and feel

the majestously heavenly warmth

of the Divine Spark.

‘It is now your choice’ the fairy tells,

not with words ‘and my

guidance finishes here’, The lines

in my hurt face take strength as

I complain ‘How am I supposed to know

what is is should be my bow’.

But the gracious Fairy is gone

and my soul is left alone,

with the finest sand, the Evil,

and the Heathen.