Once, More (Unto the Breach)

My Great Uncle Aleister said, "I do not
Want to die here, but if I do ... I'll have no
Choice.", and chuckled. As I sat on the carpet
Not two feet from his knees, my own drawn up 'tween
Folded arms, elbows grasped by loosely hands in,
Not imitation, more a replication

Of the way mummies were bound in the Inca
Nation, I recalled when first I tried Astral
Projection at Whim and found myself bound as
I was then now. Then I had thought my bindings
Were the bindings of thought, of intellect which

Caught my spirit, my body of light, held it
Within. Then, I had struggled and burst from out
My bonds, by the power of Will, not Whim, of
Wands. Now, bowing not before him, I sat,
And that gave me pause to wonder if, at that,
I too would say, "Who gives a toss?" on that day
When I might have to gamble my life away.

He studied me too, as there I sat, in a
Way that said he knew where it was at, never
Fear, incarnation is always near and more.
I cannot say from whose eyes tears first began
To pour. We may reincarnate never more
He said, and winked. As I blinked, I knew the score,
That which was not just might be more.