MF (05-03-1968 / Denver, Colorado)

The Sorcerer

The flickering flame enchants the mellow eyes
While whining wind encases faltering ears
And darkness entombs the dozing figure

Batches of colors explode
Tiny, bearded men scamper
While wicked beasts howl
Crystal walls gleam and shimmer
Flashes fall from a midnight sky
Metals fold like liquid
Flower to stone to lizard to leaf
Dozens of faceless, nameless cards
Sometimes a silky kerchief
And an occasional downy dove
Retreating adversaries with wary eyes
Always a cynic, sour skeptic
Wanting but not daring to believe
Ivory towers and ivy walls
Complete with princess calling
Knights and steeds and armour
A world of black and white
(His own somewhere in between)
Soulful serenades and ballads
Knights, courts and commands
A beautiful, endless time
Which never quite began

Awestruck in ancient revelries
The old man could not decide
Who had become more the believer
In his illusions and charades

His audience or himself

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