My Confession

 A visceral prayer, a tragic curse, and an evocative love letter to a missing muse. 

A spiritual lament and artistic testimony — a merging of ancient myth and modern existential anguish. 

It is both a prayer to the divine and a punishment from it — a paradox at the heart of the artist’s life: creation as both suffering and salvation.

Title.

My Confession.

(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 our love and sorrow.

Whilst hiding alone in here, my hollow.

For only two invisible pennies or dimes.

Because my Goddess, Divine, has called in all my worldly sins.

To be tormented in every known way, like poor Orpheus by the Maenads.

To play with only words, with this as punishment, for all my eternal crimes.

So every night or at the break of day.

I'm now doomed to write for and to you, sometimes in darkness.

Sometimes in light.

Writing for my soul.

For my freedom to really see.

Unlocking old mysteries, hidden deep down within me.

To take back some form of control, using secretive newly found keys.

To unlock mysterious occult doors.

To traverse through strange literature about inner kingdoms.

As I now speak to you, my love.

Hiding cleverly amongst life's many moors.

Hidden in the vastness of The Universe.

My simply forgotten trespass into salvation and tragedy linked to sin.

When the Leviathan tricks you into thinking:

This time, we're going to win.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.