The Song of a Blind Bard

The Ethereal Ballad of Blind Harry

I, the last sightless bard of realms unseen,

Christened Blind Harry by fate's cruel decree,

My voice, a whisper lost in time's ravine,

Perched on the precipice of destiny.

At King's Cross, where worlds collide and merge,

I watch the escalator of chance ascend,

Sifting through urban symphonies that surge,

Seeking miracles that space-time might rend.

On the eve of Harry's cosmic union,

I conjure a couplet from prosperous days,

A crumpled spell of mystic communion,

Nestled in a beggar's pocket, it stays.

Oh, London! Crucible of light and lore,

Your streets, a canvass of tales untold,

Where royal blood and common dreams explore

The alchemy of futures yet unrolled.

Hear my swan song, a prophecy unveiled:

"Oh, lady fair, blessed by stars above,

Birth a prince of viscous blood, unveiled,

With DNA spun from cosmic love.

Beware the liar prophets, heaven-sent,

For honesty speaks through my mortal frame.

A Black Prince, neither saint nor miscreant,

Shall rise to set the world's heart aflame.

Diana of Wales, forgive my brazen tongue,

We crave a child of starlight and of earth,

In realms where boundaries are unstrung,

Where temples and brothels share one hearth.

Sweet princess, your flesh misplaced in time,

Like mine, endures a world of cold disdain.

Yet through Platform 9¾, the sublime

Might burst forth, breaking destiny's chain.

I am Blind Harry, dweller of no land,

Sensing David's approach, magic-imbued,

Descending like Achilles, sword in hand,

His plastic phallus a cosmic prelude.

In silence, we commune, two souls adrift,

Until I crack the cosmic password's code.

'Harry speaks,' I whisper, a time-space rift

Opens, and reality's seams explode."

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