magician

Sway me with sweet eloquence,
Blind me with quick flair,
Con­ceal­ing trace of evidence,
What once was here, is there.
Twist my sensibility,
Bend what I perceive,
Un­veil the possibility,
Of what I can conceive.
My mind is yours to render,
My will, yours to bend,
Blown away by you, Pretender,
Your act I must commend.
En­tranced, you’ve left me standing,
Snared, my gaze is bound,
Oh Ma­gi­cian, it’s confounding,
How what once lost, is found.
Yet as the cur­tain follows,
None see how you feel,
Mas­querad­ing se­cret sorrows,
Could this be all that’s real?
A ques­tion you have pondered,
Grip­ping every thought,
You as­sume that you have squandered,
Liv­ing your life for naught.
But step out from that curtain,
Look down at your crowd,
Oh Ma­gi­cian, I am certain,
For once you would feel proud.

—kay­la walker

Flom­mist Kay­la Walk­er is just a sim­ple poet who is fas­ci­nat­ed by rhyme, us­ing it as a voice to speak for the girl lost in her own mind. Copy­right © 2016 Kay­la Walk­er. Pic­tured: Il­lus­tra­tions from The Roy­al Road to Card Mag­ic (1948) as ref­er­enced in Ed­ward Tufte’s Vi­su­al Ex­pla­na­tions: Im­ages and Quan­ti­ties, Ev­i­dence and Nar­ra­tive (1997).

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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