Mystic

In the mighty mystic
there is a happiness
that awaits us.

I used to write
to save the world.

But now I know
what’s gold can rust.

So I try and save
myself from someone else.

Maybe someone else’s
lack of trust.

Wondering what I would
make of myself.

It’s a lazy train
to follow, to try

and be like
something
that shines.

A star is a
brilliant design.

But my mind is cloudy,
and my eyes are blurry.

The mighty mystic
proclaims we’ll see
heaven one day.

I just want to be
elected on Election Day

or asked to play
their reindeer games.

Play a part
in the play

a good one
with lines,

not ones divided
in time

but ones that stay
sublime, line by line.

Something else.
I’m just looking for
a hand to hold on to.

Someone to say they
love me and I love them
and really do mean it.

But till then I guess
I just need a wrench
to fix the bolts,

tighten the screws,
find something in
the bright blue
or ruby red,
or whatever gems
you hold on to.

Maybe it’s just
the simple things.

This lack of being noticed
is maybe a blessing.

Because if I work
on myself

like the mighty mystic
says to do,

I might find my
place on this earth.

Some few lines in
a stage chorus,

just to say I
could have done it

if you invited me
to try it.

Maybe but grateful
for the day

till I master
my dreams

and forget everything
that’s holding me
back to be.

Mighty mystic in
your soft parade.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.