Wicca Tears

                             A sorcerer can’t cry? That’s just a myth
                             perpetuated by his enemies
                             to minimize his poise and expertise.
                             Part alchemist, part priest, part silversmith,
                             part warrior, part whomever he is with—
                             each role’s a mask to cover his disease
                             of icy tears that under moonlight freeze
                             to stone as living as his monolith.
                             You wouldn’t know. His teardrops only heal
                             the scars of those who know him, who believe
                             in what it takes a heart like his to break
                             enough to bleed his dreams, enough to ache
                             in dripping sweat, enough to truly grieve
                             as if his joy and sorrow made love real.


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One Response to Wicca Tears

  1. Mike says:

    Visceral tone with pleasing acoustics and voice. Very well done.

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