A conversation might be nice though . . .

The Angel asked
‘What creature are you?’

How can I answer true . . .
Can I . . .
Can this thing called I
Ever completely know itself?

Gentle one
I am no one
Nothing . . .
A molecule . . .
A moment . . .
A wave gathered from the energies of the Sea
Crashing even as reforming

I have been called a few things
Elder . . .
The Archon of Light and Darkness
Life-Force Dragon
A Star-Fire Dancer
who’s’ very touch rips the fabric of Space/Time

But these are merely titles
Words . . .
Black stains on paper
Vibrations in the air
That are whipped into the Abyss
Pointless exercises in vanity

Yet I speak thus . . .
I will speak the Truth
Because I know how to lie
I will seek the Truth
Because I know I’m half blind
I will know as much of the Truth
As is allowed this side of the grave

Also
I offer this
Time is the test of all metals
Passion is the test of all hearts
Truth is . . .

It you count Truth your enemy
Then say so now
And I will depart
I have no wish to trouble any creature
Not even those who have sought my blood
Not even those who sought my tears
I have no wish to trouble you or yours

A conversation might be nice though . . .
Yes
A conversation

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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