Metaphysical Mystic Spoon Poem by Doris Dzameshie

Nyatephetola stepped through forest green,
Afadjato whispered what lies unseen.
The trees bowed low in reverent delight,
She moved with grace, a soul alight.

An old man rested where flame trees grow,
His gaze like tides, steady and slow.
She laughed—a burst from Agblévu's core,
The land replied with rhythmic lore.

He rose with legs like tangled roots,
Their joy uncoiled like sacred flutes.
Hand in hand, through sands they ran,
Toward Anloga's pulse—earth meeting man.

The Atlantic shimmered in twilight's glow,
Its waves like secrets, ebbing low.
The Spoon lay nestled where ocean sighed,
Silver as stars in Mawu's tide.

A calabash sat near, old and wise,
Etched in symbols beneath open skies.
The Dzidudu charm on her wrist did gleam,
A whisper of peace, like a woven dream.

They twirled like dancers in harvest rites,
Their shadows swayed beneath moon's lights.
Each beat of the Agblévu summoned the past,
Where myth and moment forever last.

The spoon held laughter, paradox, and grace,
A vessel of dreams in time and space.
Together they gazed through mystery's veil,
In rhythm and rhyme, through ancestral tale.

On Anloga's edge where sand spirits roam,
They found a truth no book could own.
Nyatephetola and elder wise,
Sailed realms where joy and cosmos rise.