The Scorpion and I

I traveled to the murky well.
Panic gripped the dark.
Mortified and lonely, Its black opening craved my heart.

I clasped onto its entrance.
Its stone was sleek and smooth.
I caressed its rolling texture.
My cheek rested upon its truth.

From the depths of midnight,
I heard a voice so pale.
"Come down, come down,
Come down into the well."

I placed my body proudly
Feet first into the hole.
I slipped deep into the shadow,
To the bottom I did go.

The floor was sand and dust.
Its moisture dried with drought.
From the corner of the circle,
I heard a voice call out.

"You've arrived for my favor.
You, blessed be my soul.
Come soothe my worry,
Soothe my passion, warm my cold."

I cried out to my specter,
Who taunts my sanity?
Who tightens my insides
And crushes my vanity?

He stepped into the moonlight,
The Scorpion and I.
His tail steeped in glory-
Cocked and ready, aimed on high.

"My sting is your ruler,
It brings no comfort to me.
Come bring your sorrow,
Let my eyes feel you bleed."

Oh, magnificent arachnid,
I'm just a troubled man.
I have nothing to offer you,
Nothing you chose to understand.

"Pitiful Traveler
Tell me why you should live?
Tell me your secrets,
Your pleasures, the sacrifice you give.

Tell me of your squander-
Your ten percent of excess.
I'll tell you of abundance
And wallowing in decadence.

You'll say love
And I'll quote tales of lust.
You'll talk about beauty.
I'll show you complaints and cuss."

I have been a simple man.
I ask for nothing more.
Why do you forsake me
And treat me like a whore?

Why do you bargain?
Does my presence cause contempt?
Why do you mock me?
Have my answers left you limp?

The Scorpion's eyes turned a hollow black.
His colors drawn and plain.
His sting split my sorrowful woe,
As it eased my constant pain.

Find more by Joseph B. St. John in the Author Index.

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