The Scribe
The blue green metalled carapace
shot brilliant shafts of light ,
blinding him , back to Akasha ,
as Scarab meandered knowingly before him .
☆
His left arm was at rest
on the cool slab of marble ,
while seated , as the other limb
moved involuntarily from a hidden source .
☆
Looking up
as autonomous fingers scribed on ,
watching as hundreds , thousands of
years flow into a vibration of centuries ,
caressed by the Divine and the Holy Spirit .
☆
Then , finally , into the sweet arms of Morpheus ,
to ride the chariot of forgetfulness .
As above and then so below ,
and the spirit of Love will surely rest on them all .