The Old Mystic Poem by DM W

The old mystic glows like a source of light.
O he has endured dreadful realms of night.
Yet he has remained patient through it all.
For he still hears the ancient spirits' calls.
He glimpses God's presence in fields and trees.
He hears summer's whispers on the warm breeze.
He has no need for austere churches and
Dogmatic creeds. For he now understands
The oneness inherent in all Creation.
He sees the hope in human situations.
He doesn't judge; just contemplates life, death
And rebirth. Spring's fresh scent lingers on his breath.
His presence is always so warm and bright.
The old mystic glows like a source of light.