A Ritual to Raise You

I have so little to go by,
That I’m not sure where to go.
Magic in the pockets concealed,
If no one speaks, no one knows.

I felt you in every room you’re in,
A feeling to embrace or eliminate?
Yeah, been guilty of woolen eyes,
Somewhere in between perfection and fate.

Are you playing with my cardboard puzzle pieces,
Neat little toys lined up in dress blues marching order,
Are you on lockdown or am I again late and insane,
Selling my inner time without a drop of your water?

I wish there was a ritual to raise you,
I wish I could know what to demonize.
I wonder why you try and keep conjuring me,
I wish I knew, are you the setting sun or its rise?

So many signs and signals, across time,
But every time I turn to you, you are cold,
Secrets come and go, secrets never unbound,
Is this real or have we been returned and oversold?

To be sure the answers are probably simple,
Be it the longest essay or the multiple choice,
My heart aches for relief, I made me forget,
And then you again call me in a haunted voice.

Am I just a source of an ego lost, blindly attentive,
Or is there something again true from the source,
Wish I could wish you away or wish you closer still,
Just scream to me, am I gone or do we both endorse?

I wish there was a ritual to raise you,
I wish I could know what to demonize.
I wonder why you try and keep conjuring me,
I wish I knew, are you real or just illusion to mesmerize?
–Thomas Spychalski 

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