Intercessors
dance their pilgrimage
to Earth Mother plane
sent by Nightmarchers,
(forgotten ancient ones
who come out at night,)
to dust off myths.

Entering
Tick-tock time,
Intercessors
knowing that
what is fortold
will not vanish,
swish cobwebs
from clouded eyes.

Lean away
so that others
may breathe.
Walk gently
with honor.
Readjust
the sacred compass.

One last mission
before returning
west to Father Sky:
free Leonard.

- Kelly