The Valley’s Original Sin -a poem

As I gazed upon the agony of existence

Replete upon my mien within the mirror

Myself spoke to my self, asking

‘What woudst thou give up in payment

For thine own pain?’, and I wondered…


The agony of existence is infinite,

Writ in swirling sigils upon the soul,

Reflected in the mirror before me,

Soul decrepitude borne within

And carried, that flag of original sin.


Sunless, the valley of colourless dreams

Has many a face, many a facet turned

In different ways forth to show strange

Where sanity might have been glimpsed

Otherwise, and the secret faces reveal…


So I recalled draughts of other times,

Someways happier, dependant, or rather…

Numbed, when I abandoned my flock to graze

And went about into the valley as one

Entranced, beholden, and saw hope.


Painless immortality the valley promised

Me in lieu of light, yet I knew not then

That such was the deal, the trade, sacrifice

Horrendous and sore, yet worth it for

The surcease of such soul deep agony?


So I said that such a trade was worth it

Not, for I could not envisage such a life

Without the glow of that golden touch,

Caresses felt warm in winter, warmer

Enfolding pressure when arrives summer.


Yet oft that valley, whose colourless dreams

Are one face only, doth call me back

Across long and far gates of recall

To those dreamy, numbing, bitter dank

Soft days, my mind drawn again, gulping…


In me that valley found a kindred spirit,

One to whom it might show another face

Which too few before had ever seen,

Although I knew not what I saw, and so

I internalised the reality, bearing it away.


Prophet of the Valley I became, the pain

Still ever present, unending, and yet

Not such a burden although still troublesome,

For the words I spoke to many others for

The dark scents, madness above, and trumpeted



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