Song Of the Mystic

Oh ageless Mystic, where
might you be?
Am I of you, or you
of me?
Are you my soul, or I
your heart?
Oh ageless Mystic, from
these ears never part.


The Song

Upon a tranquil mountain, high above
the formless confusion of the hamlets below,
lived the ageless Mystic.
He was the Life that Death never sought,
a Spirit renewed with the dawning of each new
A self untouched by the passing ages, for
his soul was bathed in the Oneness of all things
held sacred.
He was the one who spoke the language of
the animals and the stars, the trees and the
A wanderer, forever walking upon the twin
paths of Yesterday and Tomorrow, with the silent
knowledge of all things.
He was the Mystic.
And because he saw the things hidden unto
the world of men, and listened for the music no other
ears could hear;
It was his fate to be shunned by all the earth.
He was feared for his power and hated for the
madness of his wisdom;
And so for countless centuries did he live
alone with his sorrow, never knowing the sweetness
of another’s voice.
But upon a day of the early spring, while
the Mystic sang unto the emptiness of his soul,
The silence of his solitude was shattered
by the voice of a child.
“Greetings beloved Master. I heard the
beauty of your song, from the valleys below, and
wished to see from whence it sprang.”

And the Mystic answered:

I have sung this song since the beginning
of time, out unto the ether did it flow;
Born of my deepest desire to share the
fruits of this, thy aching soul.
Wherefore art thou not afraid?
Who art thou, that blesses the Mystic’s

And the child answered with an innocence
most pure:

“I would be merely a child not yet understanding
the fears of mortal men.”
And the Mystic smiled with silent approval,
and there was the fragrance of flowers upon his
spoken words:

Few are the days that you have spent upon the
desolate shores of this darkened world, still
remembering of your homeland distant.
The voice of Truth has not yet faded from
the ears of your youth, and the visions of Doubt
have yet to descend upon the dream of your trusting eyes.
You are truly the child of God, and what fear
shall possess you, that your Father’s touch may not
Clothed within the years of youth, have you
come unto me: the disciple for which I have so long
awaited, the teacher unto which all men shall one
day seek the lessons of Truth.
Blessed be this youth, for he has delivered
me from my sorrow.
Blessed be this day, for it is the birth of every
man’s joy.

Excerpts from ‘The Prophet’s Candle‘ by Daniel



(Contemporary Spiritual Poets)          (Spiritual Poets)