magic

[cacian]

it's obsolete the things
you see
it ranges far from are to be,
it's columnist, it speaks
a farce,
it rides in boats over rock posts
then hits a moat
and comes apart,
quiet is gone somwhere
to hide
silence is no longer its
matching pair,
it now says words
againts its pard,
free is,
the crucible to kindgom come.

it, may come back shabby
in drabs
to try and mend
its broken rigs,
but then
it may surpass itself this time
and go, nowhere,
away from you.

nice is no longer
a simple fact,
and great has no meaning
about itself,
natural is basis of acts
and
beauty has wings
of its own,
it picks you right
out of a ditch
and gives you hints
of golden myths,
you look around and see yourself
inside a world of magic rounds,
you start to walk amidst the breeze
something as wonderful as this,
will never leave your side again.