The High Priest of Heliopolis, Speaks.

 (A lone voice whispers)

Within divine insight
Within such spectacular magic 

Whatever causes something so tragic 

Within the darkest tributaries of your soul 

That burns
Like a molten volcano 

In every second and minute 

Leaving such painful scars

As you quietly grieve 

In the formulation of an internal fountain 

Of cascading emotional memories

Falling like flashing stars 

Good and bad

Always remember 

That Love can be classed as a potent living curse 

Because it's so insidiously melodramatic 

For it has held
Princes
Princesses 

Kings and Queens 

And all of Life's seal-bearers
In-between 

In total ruthless servitude 

Even me 

And probably you 

So armed with this knowledge

Just know this 

Loves an illusion 

A construct and liar who never tires 

A thief 

Of visceral energies 

Who'll never retire

For lost within that first soft kiss 

Maybe from being a parent's new baby 

Or even from a lover 

Who likes men
Or leading ladies 

You're just one of its many hostages 

Held in tight bondage 

By an invisible exchange of spiritual contracts

To his beloved sister

Called Grief 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Foundation of the piece:

Everything we love is born to die.