Wednesday, August 1, 2012

The Burden of an Oracle




The forecast’s often are birthed in unwanted severity—
The pictures that forever play upon the never-ending reel within my mind are images no man should ever bear—it is a depicted reality that you truly believe could not play out any worse

And yet it does open the door for future suffering—the exciting looks upon those who dare me cast deep into their pools, to fish out hope in a sea of undeserving possibility—only to watch all sentiment of reason for being to deflate instantaneously to my very words—somehow ousts the depravity of the vision’s themselves

I’m truly sorry, I really am
perhaps I could lie; perhaps such untruths would be both merciful and generous—I suppose packaging the ugly realities with pretty bows and exaggerations, could do a service—

Seeing the future churns the stomach weaker, as each image
takes you into another’s soul—where forced you are, to watch, to understand, how an individual’s fate unfolds—you are left then, being only able to report the consequence and never able to change
the facet’s or the facts. I am powerless in all regards, yet, to some,
I’m lauded as if I’m some type of God—

Mankind so very wishes to understand each premonition that hovers deftly above their vessel, but what they do not care to understand, is the utter strain it is bearing witness to such horrible events, which, I must, in most instances, unfortunately report as one would the evening news—where death and devastation are all too common the thematic realities, future’s seen, that I wish I’d never dream

Yet, there then are those extremely rare and special cases, the kinds that are covered in lilies and rainbows, who’s wonderfully formed innocence, prance around a garden of delight, entirely open and receptive to all the flavors purity offers—and I see them waving their hellos with the happiest of smiles and even when the end is what the vision’s suggest, there is not regret painted upon such sights, there are no wrenching moments of tormenting scowls to cause streaming floods of agonizing reality—there are but calm and peaceful moments of acceptance, of those souls fully prepared to take their invitation to join the feast the maker’s justly presented in their honor—it’s these scenes, these scents of purity cast from within the painted lights, that rekindled what potential I’d seemingly mistaken for penance, igniting within me, a reason to believe once more, an understanding of why I see
It is from a desire not to know, for I know, above any other, how dangerous such learning can offer those unprepared to understand—it takes a rare breed to take acceptance by her hand and walk peacefully, without regret ever shading the pathway, into a bathing light so in-tune and aligned with destiny, a destiny where you must simply believe in your guide as being your ultimate defense, your safe-keeper in whatever might come next—you must give yourself over to her completely, allow faith to outrank any sense your mortal life had previously instructed you to grasp

It is, partially out of fear, partially out of a commitment to let events play out their natural course, to believe fully that destiny is not as predetermined as my life’s work would otherwise dictate and suggest…and of course, there are many more reasons for such an opinion, reasons beyond the scope of oneself—it is in part, for such reasons and more, that I have removed all mirrors and other like-minded reflective devices from my immediacy, for to know ones fate is unnatural, to see into one’s very own eyes and peer deeply upon the soul is a vision I fret to know, a sight I care never to see, until, of course, the finality has thrust it’s sword firmly within me…to which I can only pray to have the strength of being, to extend my hand, with every ounce of determination that remains available to me then and there, and accept what shall be, and leave this battlefield accepting that what’s been, and what shall be, as a choice I’ve played a role in relating, one that can truly offer more than any premonition could ever explain away



 Head on over to D'Verse for Open Link Night and accept the fact that there's some truly amazing poets at play, who offer themselves completely in their poetry, which they've so generously shared for everyone's benefit.  Enjoy all the work that's been linked up and while you're there, link a poem of your own, for other's to enjoy.  Cheers...

8 comments:

  1. very interesting thoughts in this... esp. that part touched me...It is, partially out of fear, partially out of a commitment to let events play out their natural course, to believe fully that destiny is not as predetermined as my life’s work would otherwise dictate and suggest... i think we have a free will and can influence things a lot...for good and for bad likewise...and learn by the mistakes we make and live with the consequences of how we decided to walk these paths..

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  2. Really delving into the deep mind thought today. Destiny and such is a rather complex thing to think of at times, what is the point in doing anything if it is already decided, but then if doing nothing prevents it, I guess it can be stopped. Lots of issues with it for sure.

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  3. You really got into the skin of your narrator here, Fred--the burden is palpable, and yet the rewards seem commensurate with the pain...I don't know that seeing forward would actually be any good to us at all, it does seem like a burden, but perhaps looking far enough, and broadly enough is indeed some kind of cure for the pettiness of our mortality. Enjoyed this much, my friend.

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  4. Seeing the future churns the stomach weaker, as each image -> this is how I feel about past life therapy...makes you rethink your life, sometimes, often, in a way not beneficial

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  5. Reminds me of a Cassandra - a terrible burden - she was the one who'd know the future but no one would believe her. Related to Oedipus? K.

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  6. Mercy! It must be a huge burden to have those kind of gifts. I'm pretty intuitive and there are times I wish I didn't pick up on things. This is written as though it is your experience. Very powerful, Fred.

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  7. ok i am back...is the volume on the reading really low? i can barely hear it and i have my speakers all the way up...heavy thoughts man...esp the removal of the mirrors so as not to look at ones eyes...i think they keep me honest actually...i def dont think i would want to know the future...without what it takes to get there, i wonder if we would really understand it...

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