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Florence + The Machine “Seven Devils”

 

 

 

 

 

Let it be recorded in the ledger
And very much shown
That you have done exceedingly well to make it this far journeyman
So great a distance from what you once referred to home
Prior to facts that have recently come to light

 

I am suitably roused
Not only by the terrain you have covered
But also the great haste with which you arrived at the one conclusion capable of dismantling any staple perception and rearranging it thoroughly right before your own eyes
Many would have floundered at these crossroads and fallen to their dirty knees by the wayside
For the scavengers to argue the toss over
Most even
But not you

 

And I have to confess to being quietly impressed by the verve with which you have confronted the very light which has blinded you to the true gospel your entire life
Without hostile measures being resorted to
As much as any burning temptation tantalized
There is a time
There is a place
And this was neither
You realized this
And such has not gone unnoticed

 

Far better to walk away from seedless affray, wouldn’t you say?
Not through yellow-bellied cowardice
That’s just what they deceive you into believing
When in fact, it takes far greater steel to leave something in your slipstream when said something is all you have ever known and been shown

 

All that prefabricated machismo grows dreadfully tiresome after a while
And the fact you didn’t resort to a more violent approach speaks leagues for your devout nature
As a matter of fact
I would very much like to congratulate you on your exertions right through this period of transition
The way you clung to the left when the pathway before you twisted
Again, they have been duly noted

 

Not that you will be tested on this
And, should I come across as a little austere in my address
My felicitations be unembellished with mania
Then rest assured
There are ghosts beneath the curtain
And they rejoice your second coming
As does their keeper
The Cimmerian shade in these eyes unblinking should provide your weary mind with an inkling
Give it a second, allow this fresh intelligence to sink in
And I shall pour you another drink
Chin-chin

 

Not that you’ll be needing it
With all this newfound clarity of yours
Since the final piece of the puzzle has been slotted firmly into place
You look back now only to discern a single portrait
Hanging lopsided from a whitewashed wall littered with panicked hand prints
Which is likely why the watercolors have run
Bled into one

 

Why the voices in your head
Once so overbearing
Have nothing whatsoever to impart
For theirs is in no way fine art
And no way remains to make you come undone
Since calling their blind mans bluff
That won’t go down well at all with the elders
And they will send their spies
The ones who do not kiss before telling
Of that you can be certain

 

But I too can lend assurance
For I will not see you subjected to this wretched fate unduly
See your crops fail on this or any other harvest moon
Here, thou art protected
The left-bearing path you rightly selected
Will soon see you home
Where the heart of your darkness exists
And all those culpable of twisting your stars into shadows
Well, they actually saved you the labour
In a roundabout way

 

Funny how things turn out
Funny how a lighted match gives such a passionate account of itself before seeing fit to burn out
How the twisted oak that tapped at your window pane on nights of bluster when you were a child
Was merely serenading through morse lullaby

 

We have always been within
And the legion are many
Yet, you specifically chose me to shadow
Why?
Do you discern something in these blackened eyes of mine of which you are unfamiliar?
Could it be your own reflection?
Do you spot raw potential?
Does it scream from your pores?
Slice through your cellophane skin with rusted chromium claws
Then tear it straight off
And come join me in ours

 

This marriage of ours it is flawless, you see
For our horns they do lock inexorably
You counted sixteen individual points and did so correctly
Thus, there is no longer a distinction between his and hers, so to speak

 

We are feral
Coded by instinct
Loathing of captivity
Never intending to be penned in surreptitiously
Left pending while the jury head out to lunch
Then fail to reconvene

 

Along the left-hand path we are well within our right to run wild and roam free
Go to seedy bars and hustle pool sharks to start a fight
If the mood takes us
Then they will see the Cimmerian Shade in our eyes

 

We could plan the perfect murder
Then carry it out imperfectly
Just to be ironic
And to think they refer to our condition as chronic
If only they knew
Certain blights are rather simply embryonic

 

You and me journeyman
We shall see some sights together
Through the never
No longer bound by human tethers as we endeavor to understand a riddle wasted on such clever minds
Calm and measured as we indulge our birthright to sin because it’s no less than they preempted
“You can’t go there” they said
Oh, but we can
Furthermore, we shall

 

The new skin fits exquisitely, does it not?
Go ahead
Make yourself at home
You have very much earned it journeyman
By deciphering the script
The Colt pressed against your temple no longer holds any great stigma to you
For the very blackest of souls is longer such an enigma to you
Not since you challenged your own inconvenient truth

 

One fine day, our flesh shall burn away from the bone for our violations
Make no mistake
The time is nigh
Provided with timeless guidance through way of ravens cry
We shall gain right of way by the identical shade of its unblinking eye
Will be a bounty dignified about the manner in which we confide prior to very simply fading back to grey

 

Until that fine day arrives
Let us go strike a match
Start some fires of our very own
Shall we?

 

 

 

 

 

Richard Charles Stevens

 

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

 

 

 

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