The Warlock & Time
In the morning mist the sky was kissed
With tiny sparks from a wooded rod
The power was shy, those sparks to the sky,
Not like the power from the hand of God.
Those magic places in those mystic spaces
Has moved the Warlock to wave his wand
And a whirling mass of lightning & gas
Creates the thread that weaves the bond.
He binds the two, like wood and glue,
Just to bring time to a snail’s pace.
Yes, he must move in & out of the groove;
Unseen, unheard, through time & space.
Yet,
The science is broken when mixing a potion
For the books of spells are written in sand.
Does the lizard go in, or the scales of its skin,
Do you stir with a leg or bones from a hand?
Eye of a newt, a pirate’s boot.
Which boot, the left or the right?
Should the blood be fresh, how about the flesh?
Should you mix them before or after midnight?
Yes,
He travels through time with his unriddled rhyme
While gathering knowledge from witches of old.
Then he’ll mix all the best and fudge on the rest
Just trying to retrieve the soul that he sold.
D. Thurmond / JEF
2008
Just a story in rhyme.
