David Burt - An Anatomy of Hallucination

Poem


	Over the Styx
	The mist lay heavy o’er the lake Like a wall of thick white cloud. Swirling, wet and quite opaque It did the ferryman, enshroud. It hid from the weary pilgrim The ferryman’s long gaunt face, There was a silence in the interim As the pilgrim took up his place.
	The lake enjoined the River Styx Which every soul must cross, The small craft held no more than six Plus a shackled albatross. The bird, a millstone around it’s neck Did perch upon the prow, The pilgrim puzzled turned to the fore deck A frown did crease his brow.
	The ferryman stretched out his bony hand It was his payment that he sought, The payment demanded ‘ere they could land Had made the passengers quite distraught. The ferryman’s fee was their earthly soul For that journey over the Styx. Death was the claimant of this toll From the unsuspecting six.
	The pilgrim struck out and broke the chain That restrained the large white bird. The millstone cracked and broke in twain And it’s cry of freedom, heard. The ferryman withdrew his hand The pilgrim moved to take the oar, The mist dispersed, he could see the land So brought his charges, safe to shore.

	Over the Styx (Audio)