The alchemist,
See's what others do not see,
Finds peace in the pursuit of their quest,
Endeavors to do what others say cannot be done,
Thinks internally and is not swayed by the views and opinions of others,
Knows that the path is more important than the goal.

A suspicious lump appeared in the pit of his tummy.
His woman, a professional in training noticed it,
She was also a mummy,
But not his.
A little education, a spot of worthwhile interest told her something wasn't right.
Sent him to see the medical man after a somewhat worrying night.
The doctor had a serious face as he forged forward with his diagnosis.
Orchids are such beautiful flowers,
He had to have his flower stole.
Had an orchidectomy.
Poor soul,
This chap, he had testicular CA.
Almost stole his manhood away.
Gave him a prosthesis, made of plastic.
Like a weird egg.
Pretty unpleasant, necessarily drastic.
The woman, the professional walked out of his life,
She saved his life, but was never his wife.
Now he's absolutely fine,
Alive and well,
After chemotherapy,
and a little bit of time,
No longer mine.

His feet was crunching snow.
The dark was thickest,
Battled only by a single light.
The snow crunched beneath his feet,
But the doe made no noise,
She passed,with confidence,through the trees,
For she was nothing but light.
Deeper and deeper into the forest she led him,
And he walked quickly,
He was sure that when she stopped,
She would allow him to approach her properly,
And then,he assumed, she would speak,
And the voice would help him understand.
At last she came to a halt,
She turned her beautiful head towards him,
And he broke into a run.
A question burned against his cold,
But as he opened his mouth to ask,
She vanished.
He was tired and confused,
There was wetness somewhere,
But everything was muddled,
He only thought of his doe.
He was descending into a dark pool,
His head swung to and fro,
He seemed to forget he couldn't see through dark,
Nor did he realize properly the depths of his dementia.
Waves lapped his chin,
He seemed impervious to the cold,
He walked on,still searching,
A madman's errand.
A sliver of fear penetrated his mind,
A trickle of doubt,
A pinch of awareness.
He was fully submerged and wondering at the burning in his nose,
"Where is my light?"
Lo the doe appeared,
'Ere eve of death,
A ways ahead,before him,
Big silver eyes watching,bitter eyes,
She started deliberately stepping backward,
Wickedly leading him on.
He tried to follow,
His body contorted,
He struggled for breath fuel,
For the poisonous air,
His heart skipped into his mouth.
The doe grinned,
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
He still didn't recognize danger,
He was staring at his doe,
Mesmerized,his eyes confused, his face reflecting fear,
His mind cracked with cold,
The surface of his consciousness broke.
He was withered and shriveled,
Falling into the cold,darkness beyond,
Every pore of his body screaming in protest.
He looked at his doe again,
Somehow remembering,on the threshold of death,
Her face was indifferent,
He tried to force his eyes closed,at least look away,
Her face then changed,
A cold,cruel,contorted mask.
She sneered,
Loving to linger, craving agony, she likes to put her hands in death.
                                                                                                          -**Firefly