And the mystic arrived after 70 days and
Pulled them up gently, persuadingly, magically;
Saving them. They thought.

The cheered again – for her
For anything outside themselves.
She listened to their chants and cries and groans

Listened to stories of pilgrimages
from families and cities
and happiness.

And she cried for what they lost;
For the loss of their selves and for their hope
And faith in that within.

She threw them back to the ground
In defeat – theirs and her own;
Hoping they would find the spots on their own.

Back on the earth, they submitted again
And the mystic disappeared back into the shadows of their souls.

(continuation of eloquence…)