The Great Work: Preamble

Sing in me, O Muse,
of all the triumphs and woes
of countless ages, end to end,
from where began the story
of Earth and Man,
united under God,
yet divided amongst themselves.

O Muse, tell the story,
recount the legends as they are.
May I be the mouthpiece
of your heavenly voice
and corrupt, not, the deeds and words
of those who came before,
both the greater and the lesser,
those who walked along all paths
‘neath the same expanse of sky.

And may I not construct,
from the thoughts of my own mind,
the stories as I see
fit that they should be told.
May they ring true of every age,
every deed, dire and noble.
May the truth be as it is,
as told in Heaven, of Earth, below.


The Singer And The Ear

What have I,
neither master nor slave,
to give to a world
that wants one
or the other?

What have I,
the singer and the ear,
to praise in a time
that will neither
listen nor sing?

What can I,
neither divided nor conquered,
do in a world
that demands
lines to be drawn.

What can I,
who was never a caricature,
be in a world
that has disavowed
the genuine?

Something Old, Something Dark


I dream my dreams
and I wish and hope. . .

These are the ingredients,
I am told,
for success.

I, myself,
add something else,
another step,

much older
than the dreams
we dream,

one much older
than attaining
our desires:

I sing the song
of fear and nightmares.

Those things of darkness
we all must face,

those demons and devils
we all must conquer,
we all must overcome. . .

and are so often ignored.

I sing the song
of confronting the devil.

But ignore the dark
and it will grow.
Deny it, not, or it will scream
for release

and breathe in
the life you so desire

in the pleasantness of the dreaming

and breathe out
the refuse it
no longer needs

when it
has had
its succor.