Confessions of an Aging Wizard


By Joseph Timmons

 

To rise come the sun, and first foot fall to the floor

I sit and ponder the reasons

As my gaze comes to focus, the day floods in upon me

Thinking of all that must be done, and of some that must be undone to be redone

The Day begins at first drink of brew and first smoke

And what of this life, i wonder, i ponder and think

 

Surrounded by images and pictures, photographs and drawings

Piles of books and scripts

The thought of good times past, of life and love

They live there, frozen in time

Images of her, and the children, happy, smiling

So long ago, and now gone, if only survived by memories

 

I am full of memories

I am full of hope

I am full of dreams

I am full of love

I am full of nothing that anyone needs or wants

 

I’ve come to sit in my chair

I, at my desk, making and taking notes of my whims and whimsical delights

Of spells and potions, of incense and of time

Time

Time

All of that which is left, some time

 

A life half lived

And now the other half is here to be lived

To start anew, and alone

My magic is half gone now

Yet the fire within remains

There is some magics left, and many mysteries to solve

 

I am an Old Wizard, now casting magics and weaving spells

Performing my tricks for the mists

Shadows, tricks of the light

For loved ones no longer in view, and long gone

For loved ones that no longer see me, or wish to be seen by me

Or the magic within, now a life without

 

Like a King without a Queen

A Pale Horse with no Rider

I serve no one and no purpose

Other than to entertain my Cat

Who would rather chase birds

Than to purr in my lap

 

When this festival comes to a close

And the night becomes long

When the sleep of eternity begins

And the bird sings no more

I go unto the slumber of ages

With your last kiss upon my lips

 

My last Trick

My last Enchantment

My last Spell

My last Hoorah…..

 

Is my Love will always be

For you.