Of the Magicians

I may let the words one day get across to you
for I have precious little to say
but now I have no time or intensity to illuminate
to let you see me clear, and make you believe in what you hear.

Friend, I am same as you
I have a proud heart too
this one I write so you may not see, the real me
I am attached to the very words I abhor
tomorrow they may end at an unknown shore
I hope you don't find me any more in those pages
that we filled with well crafted rages.

I shall not end to write, however,
I shall not recede with this line that is being read
I will stay around and watch the playground
as the birds start to fly and words make up the sky.

We are these words and we are these meanings
we are the poets with our own leanings
believe me when I say there shall be not many suns
we are the little left of the magicians.