Confession of The Soothsayer

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Am I cursed like poor Orpheus

The son of Apollo

To just wander through life

Wasting my time

Cursed by the Three Crones 

To now write rhymes 

For just you

Who I silently 

Follow

Writing about love and sorrow

Whilst hid in my hollow

For only

Two invisible pennies

Or dimes

Because my Goddess 

Divine has called

In all my sins

To be tormented in every way 

Like Orpheus by the Maenads 

To play

With this as punishment 

For all my eternal crimes

Every night

Or at the break of morning 

I'm now doomed

To write

Sometimes 

In darkness 

Sometimes in light

Writing for my soul

For my freedom 

To really see

Unlocking old mysteries

Hidden deep within me 

To take back control

Using secretive newly found keys 

To mysterious occult doors

To traverse through 

Strange literature about inner kingdoms 

As I now speak to you

The silent viewers

Hiding cleverly amongst life's many moors

Hidden in the vastness of The Universe or simply forgotten kin

Or quiet fallen watchers 

Parading silently

Through my paradigms of words or simply perusing 

In my inspired biosphere 

Am I but one of the many cursed 

Maybe like you 

Too

To walk at the front like a brave foot soldier or simply following

Like a loyal Bannerman 

Coerced beyond belief 

To seek continuous relief

Is that why I 

Perhaps like you 

Always now write

For sleep doesn't come easy to us two

Walking these precarious tightropes

At midnight

Filled with such unknown, delicious, and sometimes devilish mysteries 

Now cast me

My two invisible pennies 

Or dimes

By reading on with those eager eyes 

As I serve my penance 

For all my own earthly crimes 

Urging you to absorb all my otherworldly experiences while you read

With unrestrained greed

For know

All our mistakes and crimes 

Are to be judged by our own

Head Watchman 

Our own judge and jury

When it's our time

No matter what you've got 

Or where you go 

And it’s why I now saunter through life

Perpetually seeking salvation to be un- dammed

Spreading inspiration through words

Painting tapestries created with carefully selected verbs

Before I meet the primordial and eternal king and prepare to be judged, as I pray and hold my nerve 

In the apex of the universe 

Where used-up stars fall like molten snow as golden bells sing a soft melody 

Who the faint whispers tell me is called the Tall Man 

The ruler of all 

Who are tainted to live within realms of never-ending jeopardy

Copyright John Duffy