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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.
