We're all magicians of a sort
impressing others with our skills
building lives that seem pristine
even though the flip is true

towers built to touch the sky
thousand feet, still they climb
if only they were not submerged
two miles beneath a sea of hurt

this city scape fills the eye
monuments to enterprise
just as hollow as the tombs
scent of death to make a coin

I'll climb the rope to impress
attaining heights above the crowd
with the top obscured from sight
the cord goes nowhere, never mind

spoken wisdom come from my mouth
knowledge blessed on those who hear
philosophy of the purest strain
if baying donkeys are wise men

steel and iron form my walls
concrete laid with rebar’s strength
all of this would be a boon
if this barrier was not made of smoke

with great power I'll part the veil
to raise the zombies of my past
the peaceful grave should be their home
instead of dancing for my soul

constructing lives that seem solid
with a frame withstanding life
it's all a farce, I'm sure you know
we're all magicians on this earth.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170908.