A Wizard's Laughter

2015, Olan L. Smith

Forty billion stars shining brightly in early morning

Amid the moonless nights, Hallowed Eves, and bright New Year

Days―I want to touch them all, grasp them with my hand, scoop

them up, and place them in my purse. I am of the stars, their

Fantasy is my essence—I am a reflection reflected harshly. The Wizard,

He places mirrors obverse; consider the many suns,

Are they tangible? A Warlock laughs as he cloaks his presence―

His recompense amusement and surveillance of our demise.

You seem so far away, sister, brother, mother, father, and dearest

Cousin. I see you sparkle in the sky, and we pursue you

In great ships―we are clumsy souls lost in ourselves, and war

Over our neighbor's deity. Whose Conjurer is supreme?