I am Scorpio. I am eagle. I am hawk. I am the shadow of the falcon, the shield of honour, the sword of power, the fangs of the tiger and the claws of the bear. I am the child born only unto God, the artist of fire and ice, the prophet with no voice, the astral body of the archangel, the gull feeding upon the waste of your riches, the lone traveller in the storm, the eyes that freeze the lake, the uneasy peace between wars, the fallen and the resurrected and death's most faithful companion. I am the cross of an indescribable love, a shared secret whispered through the shroud of wisdom, the perfect passion of a hope filled lover of the impossible and the ruins of an empire built upon an insomniac sea. I am the tortured body of justice, the light penetrating all darkness and the darkness concealing all light. I am the blind eyes that see beauty everywhere and the tongue within the crushed skull. I am Scorpio. I am everywhere at once yet you cannot find me. Once you thought you knew me but now your memory fails you. And you wander the terrain of the void, a survivor of the holocaust of initiation. Your master has vanished. He has left behind his sandals. He has burnt his meditation mat and is now selling the secret of wealth to those too proud to beg or too proud to pray. And like him I will leave no trace. I will leave no clue. For I am Scorpio. I am eagle. I am hawk and the shadow of the falcon. The raven has returned. The gull is dead. Yet still, I am Scorpio.
Bernard McVeigh
Scorpio
Bernard,
None of us has a master - "He has left behind his sandals". And none of us will leave a trace, only some old videos and other worldly goods. P'haps a gravestone. You surely are scorpio, eagle, hawk and the shadow of the falcon. There is a rich tapestry that courses this poem. I'm not sure I 'catch' it all but I want to! It draws you in. Steeped in metaphor and raw passion, I too am "the lone traveller in the storm" Bernard. I too "the prophet with no voice"
Your poem both illuminates and keeps me asking questions. Interesting.
In peace
Boss
None of us has a master - "He has left behind his sandals". And none of us will leave a trace, only some old videos and other worldly goods. P'haps a gravestone. You surely are scorpio, eagle, hawk and the shadow of the falcon. There is a rich tapestry that courses this poem. I'm not sure I 'catch' it all but I want to! It draws you in. Steeped in metaphor and raw passion, I too am "the lone traveller in the storm" Bernard. I too "the prophet with no voice"
Your poem both illuminates and keeps me asking questions. Interesting.
In peace
Boss
'In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer' - Albert Camus