a solitary hermit am i,
in a dark cave i do reside,
whilst they come to me in strides,
so i might flatter all their pride,
with the wisdom i’ve acquired.
so long ago since i became,
a much sort after humble sage,
who dwells here in his lonely cage,
whilst the people send me endless praise,
for their spirits that i do raise.
they seek me always for advice,
on love, vocation and their life.
they want not truth nor painful strife,
for truth can cut just like a knife,
so i just sing them sweet delights.
“you sir, i see, shall be a king,
and adorn bright golden bejewelled rings.”
to these falsehoods they will so cling,
and hang off every word i sing;
oh the happiness my words can bring.
merrily they’ll dance and skip away,
without making a second’s delay,
to tell the others of their day,
and how the fates have finally swayed,
and life’s debt to them shall soon be paid.
oh when will these small humans learn,
life is not responsible for their return,
on everything that is not earned,
and into my old mind be burned,
all the falsehoods that i have churned.
she told me to cut the cards twice
and create three piles.
then she told me,
pick three cards,
as i held my question in the air.
she placed walnuts on the table.
the air filled with thick mist;
a blue filter over the forest.
she lay there on the rocks,
her legs partially in the stream.
a single pink rose on her breast;
her marble skin glowed.
her palms facing up like the Virgin.
the fur of animals had been scattered;
her hair neatly combed.