Opus IV
i.
The way of the wizard child is a strange one;
Power manifests in fulfillment of deep desires
To talk to flower-fairies, to keep one's hair long.
But time and age often quench the strongest of these fires.
Still there are moments when Christlike self-control,
Born of necessity, swings to the other spectrum-side
In a mature wizard or witch, who regresses to the role
Of a child again, a victim of fight or flight and terrified.
For a person notoriously indulgent in extremes,
Whose life-existence depended on his facades,
And for whom death was a complexly nuanced dream,
Such a reaction would facilitate avoiding morality, and God.
Thus it should have come without surprise to him
That, from afar, he could hear the mellow blackbird call,
Rousing him from a sleep in dark pools of blood and sin,
A sleep where hollow, sweet, and clear visions enthralled.
The prince was first bewildered, then both relieved and enraged,
For it was both a blessing and a curse to remain on earth.
But his soul soon hosted greater fear, with which his sanity waged
A battle as titanic as that of his unhappy parents at his birth.