Words come heavy to my sleepless mind,
Heavy as the lids that press, grainy, against weary eyes.
Once, I dreamt awake that I dreamt while I slept;
Of a monocled bunny, ripe with grey and age,
Schooling a brood of youngling owls.
Few words he had to say,
Were a few too many for a thinking mind.
We are creatures of blood and magic…
The wise bunny said to his young pupils,
And we are a function of the time we have.
We live in each second that ticks its tick.
Fighting for hours that are lost and gone,
Or rushing, full-steam, into minutes to come.
These few little words got my mind to ponder,
Set my mind ablaze to wonder… wander.
I do not know from creatures and blood,
But I can promise you that I am of magic.
Magic – not like the folly you see on the screen,
Crucio! Imperio!! Averda Kedarva!!!
I’m needing no spells to call forth my power,
Nor do I need wands or foci or mana, such silly things,
My power is the same as many around me,
I merely see and wield it more so than my neighbour.
Words are my inexhaustible source of magic,
They have a power to wound and heal,
In them I have learned to build and destroy.
Piere Totem Locomotor!!!
With cunning words I cast my spells…
And my pen will serve as my wand
As I create a world in the minds of my readers.
Don’t believe me, that’s up to you.
But I know this magic is in my blood.
But we are a function of time, are we not?
Fighting hard to fix that one err in the past,
Or marching, with fervour, towards the promise of tomorrow.
We are but curious travellers on the rivers of time,
Oars beating furious against the current,
To live through the day into yesterday,
Or borne ceaselessly into the future
Where nothing is certain but still we hope,
That this flowing river we call time
Takes us to the place we belong.