My life is spoken
in these fragile,
dangerous words.
I am a mad poet
nearing the end game,
calling out syllables
to tame creation.
My home is
an enchanted,
hovering shack,
a magician's lair,
from which
I lure the world to me
with spells
and incantations;
its portal carved
with runes and symbols,
white magic and dark.
To enter requires
you speak aloud
the appropriate charm:
do not fear.
Say it and you are inside,
warm and welcome.
Outside, running water
sings an anthem
that might save us all
if we but listen, heed,
and dissolve into it,
unafraid.
Choose or conjoin,
but do not be still:
the world will never
welcome cowards.
Arm yourself;
accept this quest.
Inside, outside;
poems and music;
magic and love:
seek the words
that embrace them all.
An old poet
at the year's turning,
mad and waiting,
calling out,
taking in,
trying to conjure
the words
that make life whole.
- mce
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