Alchemy

Criss-Crossed cracked immortality will transmute
mortal pain into victorious gold
not the gold that men scrape for
or the gold that hangs from the ears of ancient dowager queens
No.

This is the gold of legacy, uncooling
shining red as it uncoils within you
scouring fear away, whip-driving
the doubt, the strangling Delilah
No.

This is the gold that is unearthly
transported by hurtling mountain
striking the orb that is my atmosphered spirit an epoc removed
countless years before e'er I opened
the eyes of my secrecy under
the mountain of my drowsy rebirth-dream, my fortress of Abunadh

The silence of ancient fathers explained
their eyes averted; not witnessing shame
immortal eyes refuse to view mortal trials or fleeting volumes of distraction

A slow, shambling approach of the REAL
a revenant assembled
the Golem of instruction ungentle
speed growing like the falling of stone whose every impact with each other sounds HEARKEN

A lone communique, simplicity
"You don't belong here."
Eyes open sharp intake of breath
Awake.

Ever the alchemist, I am
this pocketed immortality I present
transmuting mortal pain into
victorious gold
ready to explode from my own hand