The Seer Speaks in December, 2022.

    

Press play before you read.

Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)

Did you once blindly in the old silence of the mind

Exist within its thoughts of self-doubts 

Filled with anxieties violence

Like a once playful spirit 

Who had been shattered

Into a million tiny pieces 

And left wandering lost 

But just always looking for guidance 

Until you first met poetry 

In books

Or its soul-lifting lyrics 

In music 

In the throes of new beginning 

Did they encourage you to strive 

To come alive and bloom 

To truly resist 

Within each sentence

And try to start winning 

After breathing in

Its hypnotic perfume 

For did someone or something happen so cruel 

That made you suddenly say goodbye 

To all those once-holy days 

When you were possibly in love 

Or untainted by all those sad portraits 

Society 

Loves to see painted 

In so many 

Devious ways

By their Ideals 

Principles and or by people 

you once deliciously 

Cherished or worshipped  

As you wandered 

Throughout that old life 

Sheltered in

Unconditional bliss

But when those spectacular times 

came to an abrupt end 

Within an intense kiss

Did poetry help you eventually 

Find the courage 

To depression 

Resist

When you looked for something 

Truly meaningful 

To infuse your heart 

And soul with 

Like

Saint John the Baptist 

Did you find a serene taste 

Of tranquillity 

In the written 

Spoken or sung word 

That demanded to be heard

To help heal and give back 

Your soul

A sense of being in control 

Did the years of being a disciple 

Help you find the freedom 

that continuously encouraged you 

To read listen or practice 

With a new flow

To discover a deeper understanding 

Of self prosperity 

That for you was invariably 

your implicit goal 

And a means to pay 

Some of your soul's taxes

Or do you now live on a knife-edge 

With the Sword of Damocles 

hanging over you 

Praying it never falls 

As your world 

Collapses

As you relate to new and old tales 

overflowing with happiness

Or pronunciations

Centered and surrounding 

like an invading army 

A lonely word called Sadness

Don't be afraid 

All that madness will soon pass 

And when you look back 

With that crazy gift of hindsight 

One night 

In the near future 

You will see 

And laugh 

In such playful delight 

For such is life 

For we all live under 

Damocles sharp knife 

So mote it be

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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