The Cauldron Mind
The
Cauldron Mind
Upon
the heath my straying steps
Bore
me afar o’er windy plains,
Where
thinking wakes and worry sleeps
And
pondering brings greatest gains.
So
philosophizing I
Wandered
long in search of thought
To
lift the burden on mine eye:
The
net wherein my hope was caught.
What
hope was caught? The hope of my
Own
mind’s release from misery.
These
thoughts were filled with things which die
And
nights that end in agony.
I
knew not whence nor why there came
Such
pictures in my mind of woe.
For
though all-changing, they were same
In
meaning – to one place all go.
So
followed I the stream of thought
To
find its source, and then once found
To
see if I could stop it up
And
force night shade back into ground.
The
wind blew harsh and without rain
To
ease the mind or lift the strain
Of
seeking thoughts and eyes whose pain
Is
wrought in what they can’t attain.
My
steps did stagger – faint I grew
Until,
at last, ahead espied
I
drifts of smoke which rose and flew
Over
the deep-gray countryside.
There,
just before me rose a brake
Of
hoary trees whose twisted limbs
Obscured
all sight that I might take
Of
what was lurking deep within.
But
cared I naught – my purpose set:
I’d
pledged to seek until I found.
So
pressing onward I then stept
Onto
the low and leaf-strewn ground.
The
fen was dark and sad and drear;
With
rays dim-green ‘twas solely lit.
And
yet, for dark I had no fear;
I
found a path and followed it.
Deep
into woods the trail did lead
Through
stands of oak and birch and pine
Which
all were wilted - none bore seed
To
resurrect their fading line.
Grayer,
still grayer grew the light
Darkness
was coming on apace,
Until
with sudden black, the night
Did
overwhelm the evening’s face.
‘Twas
then I saw glint through the shade
The
reddish light as of a fire.
Leaving
the path, new route I made:
Unto
the light my steps aspire’.
It
took not long, for moment one
I
was in dark, and then the next
A
clearing’s edge I stood upon,
And
looking in I was perplexed.
A
fire indeed there burned whereon
Was
set the hulking, bulbous shape
Of
an enormous, black cauldron
Which
in a fog was wreath’d and drape’.
The
fog did pour from cauldron’s maw
And
spreading, first obscured from sight
The
form of a woman. I saw
Her
at last in the fire-light.
“Come,”
she called in voice as low
And
soft as wind. At once obeyed
I
her without a thought. Did go
And
by the fire-side I stayed.
“Do
you know who I am?”
asked she
No,
I knew not, I soft replied.
With
look as dark and deep the sea
“I
am your subconscious,”
she sighed.
I
was amazed, and could say naught.
Enraptured,
I beheld her lift
A
long, black spoon to stir the pot
And
whatever did cook in it.
“Look
in, if you do wish,”
she said.
I
leaned in close to watch the fumes
Which
‘bout the cauldron’s mouth were spread
As
thick and dark as helmet-plumes.
Then,
there, deep in the swirling pot
I
saw a form flit up and out,
But
in the fumes the ghost was caught
And
angrily in shrieked a shout.
Convulsing
in its vapored bonds,
At
last, ‘twas melted into them
As
if a spider’s poisoned fronds
Could
liquefy oblivion.
Another
ghost up-rose – like child
It’s
form was, but an aching sore
Did
spread across its visage wild
And
like a feral wolf did roar.
Again,
the ghost was lost in mist
As
yet another rose to light:
An
arm with clenched and bloody fist
Which
held a dagger wrought of night.
Down
into fumes the blade did strike
And
vanishing, gave way to a-
Nother
ghost, this shapèd like
A
dead rat wrapped in eagle’s claw.
But
then the rat’s ope’d eyes did gleam
Bloody-red
‘fore ‘twas dragged away.
Up
from the cauldron’s mouth a dream
Of
forests dancing came to play.
Dancing,
wilder than the wind
Tree
clashed with tree and melded one;
They
rocked and shook and cracked to spin
Insanely
wild - and then were gone.
Lastly,
from the misty veil
Upward
rose a ghastly face;
It’s
eyes were black, and visage pale
And
in it’s hands it held a mace.
Crashing
down the bloody ball
Shattered
mist like window-glass.
With
the blow there vanished all
The
ghosts – like echoes of the past.
Looking
up with widened eye
Stammered
I “What foul mind
Made
these things?” In
soft reply
The
woman smiled: “This
mind is thine.”
2 people are talking about this
Let me say it again: AHHHHH I love this poemmmmmmmm so much!!! It is deliciously creepy, and it should really be the start of an epic :D
ReplyDelete-blinks- I'm not even sure why I am still continually surprised by your skill with poetry
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