Sekel

What do you say,
Sekel, my sister?

All my problems
Are rooted in your silence,
By the theorems
Of the senseless.

Far too often, I listen to the stupid,
Not discerning your ways,
Not meditating your rhymes,
How many times,
Do I border the abyss
Without inquiring your guidance?

Tell me what you think, my dear?
What are your echoes here?
Radiate your splendors
On the obstacles of my gateway,
That I would no longer be
Entertainer among idiots.

Avenge yourself for me,
my queen,
On these jesters, their masters and their comrades,
That the aggressors of our tender souls,
Be degraded, as they degrade,
Made vile, as they make vile
And we end with it,
Let's end with it.

Sébastien Badel

Belledonne, Rhône-Alpes,
France, June, 11 2024