My talisman was destroyed
by a sorcerer, who, much annoyed,
bade me worship only him.
I worship not a lowly man
who lacks the power to understand
beauty beyond the realm of man.
Plato’s archetypes are real
in our creations and what we feel.
The innocence of childhood play
The setting sun at end of day
The work of every artist great
Brings me to a better fate
My talisman returned to me
Resurrected, in a different guise.
There is somewhere of no lies,
only adamantine ties.
Where love is indivisible from art
and only death tears us apart.
