Ballad of the Witcher

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Salute.

A long time ago.

With some blindfolded or tied to old green wooden stakes.

They loved to stone or just burn us.

Just because they thought we were different.

Since they lived in an unseen, primitive world.

Overflowing with such shameless ignorance.

We who once danced to Old Mother Moon.

Or just under the mystical Sun.

Maybe in our own woodland grove.

Or simply around luminous fires.
On secretive moors.

As the cycles of the world.
Slowly ebbed and flowed.

Always staying hidden from all.
On the mainland's busy main roads.

We, the old or new poets.
Singers.

Music makers.
Authors.
Famous or still unknown.

But still brave enough to stand courageously.

In front of all the haters.

We are all still representations of The Old Seducers of the mind.

For we are all world-shakers.

We who have always walked.
All those strange roads.

Wherever our Fate took us.

And today we are all reborn.

But now unafraid.
To live our true way.

For all our ancient ancestors.
Now just live within us.

Just leading us forward.

Is there a light within you, too?

A light.
A strange beacon which is always lit.

No matter how you feel?

A need to write.
Sing or produce.

Using all those remembered.
God-given talents.

To truly seduce.

To help others.
Purge all those emotions.
Which around us all.

Still flows.

For we are all human.
And so we are all baptised to feel.

Did you once with strength?

And conviction willingly kneel.

To be blessed before Apollo's altar.

To then stand unafraid.

Before all to see.
As you bravely whispered.

Blessed Be.

(C) Copyright John Duffy