The Weight of a Seer

 

She said: cast out the maidens,

You will have your Sirens.

I thought: simply put, and did as she asked.

 

I burnt and shed my worldly reverie,

and I was perfect.

My eyes regarded life

with its pleasantest discrepancies.

And it embraced me, as I did it.

 

ANd my eyes grew keener.

I wielded heavenly claws

that sprouted from my fingertips

and mangled the flawed skin of my rivals.

My hands spoke to me, chorusing

my sacred songs as they wove their devious

blades through the world.

 

But when my eyes dilated, I saw myself

as repulsive and fought to retreat back to the maidens.

I struggled to treat my incorrigible visage

and yet my eyes still shone with verity.

To my despair, I could not return to my initial hideousness -

the only form where I could find

beauty in the life of my ambient realm.

How I wished to frolic through

the eddies of mental restoration.

To dream once again.

To be intoxiacted and disciplined.

To rid myself of this perception.

So I searched for her.

 

Upon the end of my search she smiled as she saw me

and I gazed past that grin, seeing it for what it was

and hating myself for what I saw.

I knew the whispers before they parted her lips.

She said: cast out the maidens,

You will have your Sirens.

I balked and claimed that I already had.

She nodded and smiled.

And I slid to the floor before her cruel form

and wept.