The Mystic

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The Mystic

Soft, sparkling shards of ice
Weaved with sleek slivers of moonlight
Invisible hands pressing both into the loom
Cold, powdery breath freezing all in its path

Whispers on seductive lips
A charm and curse combined
From the mouth drop diamonds
Tears trickle from the eyes like dewdrops from the sky

The door begins to creak
A visitor tracing the path of hundreds
Seeking a potion to cure their pain, want, and need
To fulfill their hopes, loves, and dreams

A tongue like crushed velvet utters words
Fatigued soul waiting for an answer in despair
Gold and silver jewelry jingle on their arms
New solutions are shared keep their client safe from harm

Tattoos of henna and ink alike
Grace their body, veil guarding them from light
Oblique staff spins, showing direction
Blood running to a cup of wine

"One drop of yours will clear your mind"
Whispers of lies and truth alike
Crackles of fire underneath the two
One figmentation of power and the room turns blue

Eyelids shut, a needle pricks
One red distribution and the room glows like candlesticks
Flying demons, ghosts, monsters, alike
Enchanted creatures haunt the walls, eating up the light

All is quiet, silk sleeves unfold
Money given, secrets told
Victim's heart tattered and sewn
Leaving through the door alone

The mystic laughs, another amusement
Days like this bring back happy reunions
Possessing the things that make experiences true
If you don't watch out, the next one might be you