Sybil, by J. W. Cassandra
– I created my great artwork,
Suggested by divine inspiration.
Just let it to touch your soul,
All life-treasures may be yours!
My cave guards me, where you came,
In your hand with door-knob of nothing,
On your mind bonds of ignorance:
Pile of my books is unworthy,
Perhaps, you think, you payed all
Fee for it by empty nothing…
My books are the voice, divine
What charm your self be divine,
But only if you have payed the rate!
Do you not pay for divine books?
Pay with woe, blood the wage!
For flame-letters flame-being is the wage!
And book, divine is preyed by flame.
A hundred books alike a single, flame,
If you do not pay for the divine wage:
Reach for flaming last book, in flame!
And if burnt pages you save by passion,
Even if you read divine, flaming words,
Your mind does grasp nothing of them,
Their clue is the faded, this is the residue…
You’re crazy, unworthy of divine voice,
Throw but yourself hungry for the last voice,
My divine book remains divine mystery,
Perhaps in a hundred lives you will not grab it…
You did not pay what God has asked for –
You’ll pay for the wage with flame, blood…
Human pride cannot depress divine sibyl:
I keep the entrusted to me, divine voice…
Divine voice: perennial mystery, entrusted to me…
03/10. 2020., by J. W. Cassandra