The Seer divines

The darkness of the warp.

Through the mist

A familiar visitation:

A murder of crows.

Waiting over fields,

In trees, on streetlamps.

A fertile imagination.

A spectre of power.

A magus alone.

And somewhere between

The detail and the whole,

An ebb and flow

Of thoughts and feelings,

And formidable self control.

I will anaesthetise the pain.

I will relieve you of stress.

I will cut out the cancer.

I will hope for the best.

Above all else,

Of all of my duties,

It’s to help you, not hurt you.

It’s my burden to please.

I will share what I know.

I will take away your youth.

I will take on your suffering.

I will doctor the truth.

I may control you,

And cause some unease.

I walk beside Death,

But it’s my burden to please.

I will uncloak then palliate.

I will be there as you fail.

I will bandage your sores.

I will lift-up the veil.

I’m here to help others,

But I’m on my knees.

My own wounds, so painful,

Still, it’s my burden to please.

I will ligate and bind you.

I will sever your bonds.

I will quietly remind you

That one day you’ll be gone.

The pattern repeats daily:

Every person diseased.

I’m Doctor Placebo

And it’s my burden to please.

The lighthouse illuminated

The world

And those who chose to see.

Whilst looking at the foundations

I fell into the abyss.

The descent invigorated

My soul.

In my isolation desolation departed.

Buoyant and supported,

I rose into the light.

Come breath with me

Under this tin foil hat.

Senses stimulated

By this and that.

Mind full and mindful-

The grey matter hums.

Perception simulated,

Body paralysed and numb.

Adrenaline flowing

Wired and wired.

Matrix glitches,

Tired thoughts mired.

Down into the world,

The place that matters.

As a trusting cynic.

Spirit once again shattered.

See the light,

It courses through.

Turn it round,

Give me truth.

A curtain falls,

Fleeting darkness.

Look within,

Raise the veil.

Sight restored,

Awaken.

Revelation.

Rebirth.

The blind spot

Acknowledged.

The paradox

Now known.

Dusty wings,

Brown and grey.

Trapped inside,

Here to stay.

Full moon calls,

Vast and bright.

Drawn back to

It's glowing light.

Glassy barrier,

In the way.

No way through.

May die this day.

Remind the humans

How to roam.

Role fulfilled,

Soul flies home.

The car salesman says

'Put your left foot away,

You don't need a clutch

For the transmission to engage'

'And your left hand is free'd,

It makes it easier to steer.

Look, there's also a switch-

Turn on the radio to receive!'

And after driving awhile,

Right-brain idle, not required.

This machine has turned me

Automatic. I'm re-wired.

Divisions and wounds

I'm compelled to repair.

My primary intention,

Bring opposing sides together.

Suturing with suggestion,

But first haemostasis.

Preserve the sanguine,

Optimistic nature.

A decision for change made,

Move on to the next stage:

Add some heat; inflammation.

A rememberable reaction.

In this alchemists mind,

I can see what's desired.

Next step: proliferation.

Produce offspring less stubborn.

Then after a short time

We get maturation.

Opposites connected

By the next generation.

When the healer has finished

The wounds are diminished.

But if conditions won't permit

There's dehiscence, a split.

The secondary intention

Is to be more patient.

Debride, release tension.

Opposites eventually attract.

Time heals all wounds,

Though more painful,

Unpleasant, profound.

And still the world turns.