Spiritus Practicum

Forsooth beloveds;

'Tis I……Pan
Mystic, poet and Faun
Indeed a loose arrow
In flight, though aimless

Rest easy my children
Destination matters not
Until your junket ends
And “Grim One” lay claim

Dance rather than sit
Sing don't complain
Make-Merry then Mary make
Drink Huxley’s soma
Eat from Cornucopia

Above all…laugh, cry and feel
Then...
Ye shall truly know what’s real

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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