Fable

One fabulous fabled night, a famous wizard gave us a story, without meaning: Or so it then seemed.

At the time, I had parted with my secret self, my twin, embedded in my heart, but the wizard's prayer awoke me in thin air, drove us apart, tears stained my cheeks.

I was no longer meek and mild.

No longer a child.

My heart was broken, like that of a man, and I became fierce and bold.

In my left hand I carried the stain of a fabled name, until death stole his soul away.

I became a writer of fresh black words in the theater of the absurd.

The magician's prayer awoke nothing but tears. Mary mother of God help me for I have sinned. She was not a stepmother of a King, but a wild child, a woman of the woods, without jewels or a 'roof;' her son created deadly desires, his prayer awoke nothing but tears.

(The most recent, the finest of them all, being the end of years.)