Mirror of Black Reflection

Who am I, who, by impudent aspiration,

dared to seek accordance in  places of

isolation, for those disposed as me, at least?

Yet, chance, strange curiosity, mistook me

for a muse, and arm in arm with fate, set

my hand upon the scene I’d so oft sought.

There, safe, for facelessness, amidst the

many muses, did I , through ignorance

and greed,  disclose my knavish birth.

Then, steeped in childish pride, for words

of soft composure quickly honoured,

my lowly self  was fraught to rouse and rise. 

Alas, poor fool!  Wisdom oft times sleeps

til swiftly wakened!  And I, beguiled buffoon,

pride and sensibility lay bare myself to slay.

Twas ne’er this foolish lad who felled the door.

No!  Words alone wrought this witless folly. 

For such, I inflame the mirror of black reflection.

© Sebastian Lee