The Oracle in The Mists
(A lone voice whispers)
Oh, poets who write by pen or quill
Young or old
Hear me
Does the long night bring stories of the new
Or memories of the old
Creeping in
Calling to be written by you
By the Eternal Temptress
Hiding somewhere
Supernatural in the cold
On some unseen Capital Hill
Do you bind them up by your will
Like a chained up Prometheus
To your wild green
Hills of Creativity
Hold them to account like a reborn form of Socrates
Before releasing them through your choice of quill
Until they can whisper no more when they are spilled
To be still
And lay satisfied and sated
Asleep for ages
Like an insomniac after taking a strong sleeping pill
On some pages
Until those
New or old voices
Waiting and whispering
Out in the cold
Call no more
But watch like sirens
Watching Ulysses
Standing on your luscious green hills of creativity
Bound by your will
Waiting for your sympathetic ear
Day and night
All year round
On the wet slippery shores
Of your minds
Right Hemisphere
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
The right hemisphere controls creativity, spatial ability, artistic, and musical skill.
Source:
Google.
