The Valley – Speaker – a poem

Darkling strong ring on the reverberate peals of pain,

The envenomed talons dig in every possible

Point, caustic potion laced claws lance

Along muscular fault lines sharp, throb

And the burn of tendon, living entire ache

Burns on.


My search for some anodyne efficacious

Against the ever present palpitating pains

Led me to abandon my flock and take up

Newly with the spirits inhabiting therein

That valley, wondering whereat they first came.


I heard soft whispers of tales older

Than the oldest myths, the hanging trumpets

Harbingers of primordial poison realised

As flesh when Thanatos fell, Eros captivated

Within their deathly folds beneath the mad swirls.


Whereupon the Faustian deal was offered I shook not,

Yet reviled the sun’s loss, and so chose

To suffer and bathe in Ra’s godly gold

Glow. Like such deals were not worth their

Weight in gold, and I chose part, was granted thereby.


The spirits of the depthless, deathless valley

Made me a prophet, bade me go forth as one

Newly made, the power of their ruby flowers strong

And bitterly winsome within my veins,

So I might spread dangerous word thereby,

Be their prophet



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