Turning from the landing counting the spindles, it is 6am, I turn to the descent of a staircase, I look toward the light piercing through glass. The leading right foot steps upon a creaking case section. I am greeted by a mist, am I blind what, is my vision the grey becomes over intense, an edge of coldness within arrives. I descend according to this feeling. Am I greeting from afar a collective of my families, condensed spirits is there a warning and to whom may it be of concern.
By Mason Cult Poet
Mason Cult Poet was born in Westmorland in the Lake District in a farming engineering community. On one side of the family many portions of nobility mainly the Stuarts. Mason Cult did as the herd does and went through the education process. attended drama school and ran small businesses. The stigma of mental health issues blighted him as it does with all creative people, was diagnosed in 2011 with a form of Asperger’s Syndrome which can impair executive function however it has given him a higher sense to see what others do not and from this ability he concludes the world is controlled by esoteric forces and that other interventions operate steering the world we know ro a new beginning.. What we witness we are forced to challenge and the work of Mason Cult assists this