Disclaimer –

Derek's work has been registered at the U.S. Library of Congress, so it would be a terrible financial idea to plagiarize or use any of the material found on this website for your own purposes. Nevertheless, enjoy the writing!

Christopher the Enigmatic

When days of yore were spoken of
And still referred to as today,
There lived an enigmatic lad
On whom near everyone would lay
The claim that he’s too hard to love
Due to the cryptic life he had.
As such, the boy was branded cursed;
His plight was accidentally worst.

He knew not how he got his name,
But that it was by parents giv’n.
And if his surname could be changed
He would indelibly have striv’n
To alter it to sound the same
As all the people who estranged
Young Christopher the Engimatic;
His bitterness was so emphatic.

So to combat this chance of Fate,
Brave Christopher sought out a quest
That, once completed, might amend
The issue that made him depressed;
And that his feat might soon abate
This rude indifference that would send
This Christopher into a spell
Of sharp reproach against his Hell.

At once bold Christopher embarked
And wherefore lead the daunting course
But to the Oracle he sought;
A most robust unearthly force.
But Christopher must have been marked,
For his aim was directly caught
By the omniscient Oracle;
Its mere presence was powerful.

“Most enigmatic sir,” began
The Oracle in booming tones,
“Where once I thought my godly power
Could quell the most perplexing moans,
I fear you might become the man
Who halts at once my finest hour.
I can’t see past your nomenclature
To ascertain what foils your nature.”

Young Christopher cast down his eye
But spoke with dauntless confidence,
“Wise Oracle, I know your might
And fear not that your common sense
Can help me to untangle my
Misleading name; my only plight.”
In earnestness, young Christopher
Leaned in to hear the sage’s offer.

“Thy words confound me so,” it spake,
“Thy words, such puzzles to mine ear.”
The Oracle then somehow shrugged.
“If you are wise, then you may hear,”
Chris’ angst made his passion wake,
“My words with puzzlement unplugged.
It’s not my manner’s enigmatic:
‘Tis just my name that’s problematic!”

The Oracle paused a moment’s pause,
And contemplated hard this speech.
But though it adamantly mused,
It felt it could not aptly teach.
“Thy words and not thy name are cause
For me to justly be confused.
So speak no more, young sir, until
Your talk is much less quizzical.”

And all at once, like surging waves
Engulfing thus the mind of Chris,
Came a bewildered sense of rage
And with it, a keen helplessness.
“Some people carry to their graves
The wisdom you impart, oh sage.
But you, no simile in this,
Are blind as old Teiresias!”

Now none had dared insult the seer
In manner quite so insolent
As Christopher had just attained.
How great would be his punishment?
“For though your tone would oft cause fear,”
Spoke squarely by the one just deigned,
“So mystifying is your talk,
It makes my boundless mind just balk.”

As paradoxes go, this one
Would well be writ as fairly great;
The mission which the young man prayed
Would shed away his hopeless state
Could never feasibly be done.
For every thought the man displayed
Would deafly fall on questioning ear –
Mere riddle would the listener hear.

So cursed was he to always be
Enshrouded in enigma; doomed
That ne’er should he be understood,
For over his true person loomed
This secretive celebrity
Whose actions, though sincere and good,
Would stay forever wan and static;
Poor Christopher the Enigmatic.