I hear it. I know.
Your buried secret you thought hidden but twas too well sown. The reeds speak it now my dear.
I knew you long before. Now again I know you. A blessing. A curse. A saint. A whore. All and none, made and sworn.
I know what you did for those in need.
I know what wrought on those who did wrong.
I know the pretty words you spoke that broke the hearts of men.
I know what you did in the shadows with whom and when.
Well you work your craft my dear but you forget from whom you learned. I taught you much but it seems that little enough have you learned.
Your eyes give the lie.
Your lip still trembles.
Your hand clenched in worry a stone resembles.
I know my dear, what is in your heart, for much of it I wrote. Pitty for any fool who by your pretty eyes be smote. Once almost you outplayed even me, yet still there’s much you fail to see.
Before you, in the shadows ever there was the devil and there was me and of my whispers they’ll never be empty.
I see that you see that I see and yet you do not learn.
Watch behind the shadow behind the clock upon the wall. Wait for the eternal walls of Jericho to fall, die to know all you would discern and still in my shadow you’ll stand.
Let go stubborn pride and I’ll offer my hand.
Yet no. That I taught you too, you’re never done till all the other players are dead and done and through.
Play on my girl and let us see whether master or apprentice you be.