Smoke and Mirrors
Smoke and Mirrors
AGE 19 - Rural New York
All butterflies and bicycles,
and ivory nuts, and icicles —
delineated not by size
nor pleasance to the ear,
nor genus, order, class or make
by scientists, who undertake
the task of sifting all the world
through indices austere —
exude a certain afterglow
which poets only feign to know,
as few escape the pretexts
’twere instilled in them, by fear
that they have somehow been left out
from knowing what the song’s about,
and absented from briefings
given every single year
from the king shepherd, to his flock.
These black-sheep poets force the rock
to yield water — then drink it,
think it was excised by skill.
The Master, who produced the flaw,
recoils into a great guffaw,
with pleasure at the plentitude
of mischief in His will!
The turn I didn't see coming is that God is the one laughing at the end XDDD that the flaw was authored on purpose and the joke's been running the wholeeee time. You spend the first half among the butterflies and icicles and I settled in thinking this was going to be pretty, and thennn you set the poets up as thieves who mistake a gift for their own skill, and I stopped feeling safe in the prettiness... (Seriously, Rafa??) I had to slow right down at the black-sheep poets forcing the rock. Nineteen and already writing in a form most people never earn, that gets me a little indignant on your behalf, honestly, that you were this good that early.
Where is this king shephard and how do I sign up for the briefings? :D