The Seer and The Sound

A seer speaks.
The man answers
That his long, bold
With The Woman
Of Visions galls
(Haunted, she wails
For warm relief:
For night, sans noise,
Four times a day
(She fights with blade
of self-forged light,
(The arena:
Her own loud mind)))
“Would you now sow
This affliction –
And inherent –
Into one branch
of our Life-God’s
Dare you sicken?”
(Those of sound mind
Demand reasons.)
The Seer foresees
And hand-holds his
Lover. He washes
Her hair with mint
And peppermint –
For memory.
“Are you less doomed?
Do flumes of gloom
Run through you, too?
I hear your blood.
You’re a blood pump.
And Death weighs you’re
an important
mortal, who dies,
You of sound mind.”
So the seer
Defends his love
And casts his cards
And weighs their lay
And counts the days
Till the herbist
Arrives on her
Great, black falcon.

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