A recruiter for a company quite famous
Sought me out, activating my white ramus.
She shuffled the cards and splayed the deck
To tempt me with projects high tech.
The timing’s wrong, said I, though enticed.
She said she would again roll the dice
To see if feelings mine remained the same
In months a few (if few and couple share a name).
A couple have passed, and the idea’s tempting.
The coolness factor plays my vanity unrelenting;
But I’ve not heard her voice,
There could be a siren hidden in this choice.
And I’m still entranced by another voice:
The lure of siren or an angel that doth rejoice.
Yet voice of siren it cannot be, of this I am sure,
For a siren is always singing, always lures
And such is not the case.
Sometimes this voice is with caterwaul laced.
It oft times will test and try me;
Yet in proximity, from its power I cannot flee.
Is it the call of an angel then?
I have a key plucked from garden zen:
Pray tell, my friend, what is an angel?
A servant, a messenger—from Greek angelos.
No message by this voice hath been delivered;
No token of the Served hath my knees quivered.
A mere mortal then? And yet the voice I ken:
‘Tis a Muse for my pen.
So to the recruiter my thoughts return:
A siren lure, or an escape—a sauternes
To dull my mind, the power of the voice forget;
Kismet that the voice no more my heart beset?
My feelings do not so quickly change,
I’m loath my life to rearrange,
But it would provide the easy way out;
Leaving future wonder in full doubt.
My heart says the timing’s still off,
Though I avoid the voice by my cough.
Call it inaction, call it fate;
My head agrees and so I wait.
Copyright © 2013 H.K. Longmore