The Tale Of The...

The Tale Of The Goddess Nemesis

As the 'year of the narcissists' I thought it would appropriate to take a stronger look at the events that have personally played out in my life and while doing so also introduce to some that may not know where the origins of narcissism come from.

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Few I have found

Have heard of the Goddess called Nemesis

Who cast her spell

To the one who fell in love with himself,..

Narcissus

Upon her seeing his ways displeasing,

Bowing down only

To his own fulfillment

She set forth to forever blind him of his own eyes

To prevent his injurious and perilous ways

But unable to leave the allure of his own image

Goddess Nemesis turned him instead into a flower

One we still see today

It is like Narcissus, a bounty of its own beauty..

One of angelic white and simmering gold

But beware of your temptations

Least Narcissus lies in the waiting

Watchful, his lips as to the petal

To the vine, he waits in silence

His beauty once taken

Now lies in this flower,..

Resplendent.

Seen only by those who are in narcissus's sight

If one comes too close with their fingers

Resist with all courage to pluck it

It will only lie and let you believe

In its irresistible image

What the Goddess Nemesis had devised

Was only good to the one, Narcissus

To those that lay far in the future

The ones she could not see at the time

As so, Burned into history

Be the spite of Narcissus

To be burned by those blinded

Also by Narcissus' descendants

Some say just the smell of this flower

Can too burn, in an instant

Those too, falling in love with the pain Narcissus hid inside

Often we now see them

To be pitied, in their cunning disguise

As for those who fall victim

To the wrath then put forth by Narcissus

We should have both pity for the stricken

But also wary of the guile

Sweetness, just as wrath

Doth not wait, but for a minute

And if fallen into their deviant trap

One must be prepared to fight back

But I plead your hence!

For one that has seen and witnessed thence

Do not poke at the beer which sleeps

Let them be until they awaken

Silence, works more sharply

Than than any spear man hath shapened.

And so you now know the story

Of the Goddess Nemesis

A word familiar to speech

But not one of revenge

But one of justice

This is a story for the many

One not only for the meek, or the weary

Of words familiar

But ones that speak

To an adulterated glory

If the Goddess Nemesis still watches now

Her spells cast long ago

Let how long the tale abodes.

Many have heard of the word Nemesis

But I query to ask..

How many know of the story?

Of how she saw the man

Who fell in love with his own image

A man forever told throughout the ages..

As Narcissus.

One of new and old

Too soon yet to know

How bloated the narcissist has grown..!?

My ink as my story

Left unfinished

But hold true

To your own glory

To give strength to the one who loves only thine self

Is to taketh away the love one haveth for him, or herself.

By Andrea W R Jones

From: United States

Website: https://www.linkedin.com/in/andrea-wr-jones-writer-poet-54413b1b