You may think
That you know
Me
But my masks
Are many
And I hide my
Secrets well.
My passions are
Intense and move
Through me
Flowing like hot lava
Despite my conservative
And cool exterior.
And those of you
Who think me cold
And unfeeling
Only see the mastery
Of my façade which
Protects the exposed
Soft belly beneath.
It is often in
The dark of night
That I find the
Greatest solace, but
If I linger too long
That place of comfort
Becomes the prison
From which I strain
And struggle to
Break free.
I pause and breathe
Deeply to allow the realization
That these walls of
Confinement are My
Frightened emotion’s
Creation and the walls
crumble around me
as the light of Dawn
Filters through.
The sands of time
Shift and flow from
One tightly held container
To another.
The truth’s of my own
History’s stories are
Drawn up from the darkness
And into the blazing sun.
I examine them
And relearn the
Greater lessons contained
In each.
And, once mastered and reclaimed
As paths back to myself
My Spirit soars and all
See me as transformed.
The burden has been lifted
And I look once again
Towards the full
Light of Day.
No, you will never
Know all of my
Secrets.
Many lay hidden
Buried even to me,
But without their stories
To be lived
You would not be
Charmed and seduced by
My enigmatic charisma.
The Magickal Pen 
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