Flame's Meditation

Sitting idle in mind and action, a memory had made itself known through superficial virtuality.

And at a glance, a semi-familiar name, with a completely familiar memory;

Notes saved mocking the what-might-have-been’s with the what-were’s,

an interest not recognized at the time, too absorbed by the past’s present,

with an inability to glance through the present’s stir.

Within the archive, eight held the beast's numeric bound by five, seven, & nine

giving balance by a trinity, still unknown to the meaning of its trine,

surrounded in graces by four and six and eight and ten,

preceded by two scepters, and a particular soul.

And a call was made, by feline way, and response mewed:

“Hark be to thee that summonst in this hour?”

To which was jested: “Magic’s Return”

And muse reclaimed anew!

That strike of flint grew spark alight

to venture through brief decades swing.

Thus never been a feeling had that made a winter sing!

Three-thousand miles ventured ‘fore the muse’s mortal cleanse.

Three-thousand feelings quickly felt before contact commenced.

Three-thousand questions, signs, and breaths quite perfectly aligned.

Three-thousand trillion-trillion stars, and these two came collide?

Now funny as the psyche might try stuffing voids that aught be filled

so much like a feeling one might find by form of drug or pill

unknowing acute side effects that when tested by the firm of reality’s view

would continue to ignore for thrill and distraction of a feeling that illusions…

illusions….

Illusions?

Probably illusions….

But what if not?

But what if, by the magician trained in the particular art to recognize, and even create illusion’s guise, might not see illusion at all?

Could it be that the magician has in fact become the audience, throwing his craft into the wind?

And could it be that the audience has then become the magician?

Could it have always been that way?

But what if not?....

But who is who?

Could both be both simultaneously?

And act with most cordiality?

Or does paradox beg to skew?

A feeling ignored.

Doomed to be explored.

And exploited to know for sure….

Illusion?

Fantasy?

Something more?

For better?

For worse?

To Be or Not?

Ah! Shake thy spear! O Hark! Can’t it be seen the torment of such spark’s ignite?!

For as cool as blaze might appear, burned is the hand that tries to know!

For heat is heat, and cold is cold,

and alas, balance rules that each must hold the others hand,

might the fulcrum of the scale find equilibrium

or forever tilt and fold……

And in its folding relinquish the bet

called, not known if bluff,

for as is held four aces high,

the other may hold royal flush.

Or nothing at all.

It would never be known

unless each player’s hand is shown.

And risk the pot for putting trust only in confidence,

of such silly games,

keeping watch perhaps for the wince of the other, to try and guess their play.

And much like watch is kept inside the crow's nest,

the captain pleased to hear the shout of land,

but instantly led to ship and crew's demise when the siren’s call is bore,

and by design, with no control sent crashed upon the shore.

And in his fate the captain strains:

Abandon ship?

Or follow course?

Not recognizing the pattern of the stars at coast as he overlooks his wrecked vessel.

His only prayer, a message cast in bottle read:

“S.O.S. My Dearest Friend.”