I must be patient in this fragile time,
When this, my World, must be taken apart
Until all that remains is the bold heart
That, beating like a drum, is really mine.
Nothing else that I have is mine alone.
It is all shared or partitioned or tagged
By eager companions in life who had
Every opportunity of their own,
But decided instead to ride my back.
A monkey on the shoulders of the blind
Man lost on his own path, while forced to grind
A tune for them to dance to and to stack
Up their quick proxy gains in blissful glee.
Do they realise, life which can be counted
And banked is one worth being discounted?
They ride my shoulders but live not through me!
My measure of these quick thirty two years,
Written on the tiny page of my lids,
Is safe from the bailiff – forever hid
In the coolness of my laughter and tears.
I will die rich in the rags of estate,
With my fortune flowing beyond my life
As I walk a hidden path out of strife,
Into a realm where only I dictate
What price I must pay for the sweet wonders.
(And where none follow unless I consent,
Yet I may, just to see their spirit rent
And ravaged by beasts that know their blunder.)
So patience be my virtue and my grace.
My burden is not one I can not bare
And there are some things in life I will share
With those who bless a smile to my face.
I will be their organ grinder and dance
Despite the blindness and dissembling
And bask in the prized joys of cavorting –
Defying the mundane’s attempt to trance
And subdue my life away from magick.
As I say, it can all be torn apart
Until I’m left with just a beating heart
And at that point will I show you a trick!
No slight of hand or theatre ploy to give
Spectators cause to gasp and ponder hard
On where I might have pulled the secret card
That alone, with faith gives power to live
Beyond the loss of absolutely all.
In knowing; there is the fortune I own
Which is not confined to my blood and bone.
I have travelled the journey from the Fool;
This card I hold in my broken fingers
And say to those who wonder at my grin
And think I must be driven mad by sin;
“Walk on his path. The warmth of it lingers!”