Brunswick on Nostr: The Tale of the Wayward Soul Hark, my child, let wisdom be thy guide, Hold firm my ...

The Tale of the Wayward Soul

Hark, my child, let wisdom be thy guide,
Hold firm my words, let them not slip aside.
Guard thou my counsel, as thou dost thy breath,
For these shall keep thee from an early death.

To wisdom say, "Thou art my kin,"
And to proven counsel, let thy heart be pinned.
They shield thee from temptation's snare,
From yearning cries that call for mother’s care.

Once, by my window’s frame I stood,
Where twilight blended with the wood.
A man did wander, slow of pace,
Through Simple Street, unmarked of grace.

He drifted as the restless breeze,
Unknowing, bound for miseries.
Soon met he her—of painted guise,
A glance that stirred and sealed his ties.

Her lips, they curled in whispered sin,
And thus, she drew the young man in.
Her voice was soft, like siren’s song,
And beckoned where no soul belongs.

"I’ve longed for thee, my bed is turned,
Come rest ‘til dawn, 'til birds have churned.
My husband’s gone, sent far away.
Come, fill your heart upon my clay."

She reached for him with gentle hand,
And led him to a broken land.
Like ox to slaughter, so he came,
Unknowing, heart wrapped in the flame.

Her house, a road to endless woe,
For many, wide-eyed, there did go.
What seemed so sweet bore bitter end,
A place where souls no more ascend.

So listen, child, and mark my plea:
Let wisdom guide thine eyes to see.
Keep thy feet from the snare-bound tree,
Lest thou be lost, and cease to be.