Memory Thief
He chants:
To steal, to keep, time and again.
To create, to weep, time and again.
To sow, to reap, time and again.
To stop, to leap, time and again.
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Come listen to this tale I speak,
Of a thief pursuing an age old art.
Beginning to ensnare an orb of fire,
As a skilled master adept at his task.
He proceeds, twisting the sphere craftily,
The flame hisses, its tongue licks his hand,
As he leans forth, diving in head first,
Allowing the red to entangle him in a trap.
The spirited winds surround him now,
As he is launched across the seas,
With none to his name save,
A wavering compass and tarnished plot.
Fully mindful he is to row forth blind,
Amongst the floating wisps of clouds,
He curses the treacherous world,
For what he has to conduct tirelessly.
Islands of reminiscences he sees,
Gliding to the one that entices,
He paddles toward the isle for the day,
Considering the present moment-Past.
He parts with the chilliness in a jolt,
An absent warning, from no one known,
Back into the heat of the pyre when,
He will begin to practice, time and again.
