Freud got it wrong.
Yes Oedipus killed his father
Married his mother
But that is not the story.
Those are the symptoms
The surface presentation
That if not examined
Becomes a diagnosis
Of lust and greed.

There is more, in the marrow
A deep tragedy
In the sacrifice
The honour
The courage
Of people caught unknowingly
Enacting the very outcomes
They are desperately trying to avoid.
A story of love.
A story of missed identity.
A story of humanity.
With all its messy imperfections.

Do you see now?
How the meaning is in the context.
How gilded eyes don't always see.
How choice can be an illusion
Within the oppressive regime
Of prophecy.

​Can we see beyond all these predictions
To the person,
Flawed and trying?
To the here?
To the now?

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