I’m number 2
In shadows deep, the enigma lies concealed,
A puzzle wrapped in riddles, truth concealed.
“He claims he’s number 2,” whispers echo low,
A cryptic tale of secrets, yet to show.
The spirit, puppet to a sorcerer’s hand,
Remote-controlled by spells from distant land.
A conundrum unravelled, mysteries told,
In whispered truths, the arcane behold.
The mind, a labyrinth, where secrets dwell,
Unravelling mysteries, as tales they swell.
For those who grasp the clues, the hidden code,
Reveal the truth, on paths they boldly strode.
In shadows cast, the puzzle now unbinds,
As truth emerges from elusive finds.
A poem spun, in shadows’ gentle sway,
Reveals the secrets, in the light of day.
Is he number two as in poo
Or remote controlling the real number two
Via a prophetic channel

©️pongo the poet