Fiction, love, Ritual, Short story, yule

The Philosopher’s Song


 She smokes as she walks, the Philosopher

with eyes that are masked by the moon

she will play you a song and then leave when she’s done

but you’ll find, her song never leaves you

Her laugh brings you joy when you think of her

and her countenance brings you a tear

but the wisdom she knows only just seems to grow

were you ever a child, my dear?

She smokes when she walks, the Philosopher

fighting injustice with truth

even when you are grey, there will not be a day

that I go without thinking of you

My philosopher stands when its difficult

she is barefoot and baring her soul

if you’re quiet and poor, even if you’re a whore

she will come share a drink with you

You’re a Saint, You’re a Sinner, Philosopher

You are friends with the homeless and gay

Silence Masses, and watch what true love really looks like

and maybe you’ll get there someday

My Philosopher Sister is beautiful

her hair is as dark as the night

I watch her go onward and following after

are those who would bask in her light.

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