Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Alchemy



















alchemy

I’m just the Fool, 
Nothing, Zero,
crying at the back
of the bus, Muse
blowing through
my head because
my muse is so far
from me, drifting,
drifting, still
drifting away,
& toward,
& the pain
weighs on me
because holding up
the sky is no easy task

ask Atlasshrugging
is no option.

So I cry,
the Fool
at the back
of the bus,
& I hide
my tears
behind her mirrorshades,
wipe with a wedding
napkin, hoping
that I might
still have a chance
at that dream,
because that's what fools do:
dream the impossible.

Nothing is impossible
for the Fool whose
muse finds the Will
to drift back to him, 

finds the Words
to awaken him,
finds the Way
to infuse
her power 

with his
power to transmute 
nothing into something, 
Zero to One
to slay a Fool 
to make room 
for the Mage.

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