From a nomad to a slave down tracks across plains, through woodland tiny fires in the night under the trees and shadows. The call of life, the movements underground the moles were busy the occasional passer-by one hopes a friend. Not a foe but I begin to hear the noise of a closing the beginning of the end, alarmed, the more I stay the less I look at, little I remember for it is not long before something is around the corner many, but nasty, the metal scrapes, the floor junctions are blocked and dysfunction appears. I scurry here and there everywhere the path crosses more roads and the links to freedom fatter than ever, so this nomad begins to panic as the tiny campfires dim and the noises grow and groan. Freedom is apparently the beginning till the end so I’m sorry I must go.
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