©2016, Olan L. Smith
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Who calls to my carcass? Is it you? Writer of Codes
Can you reattach sinew to these dry bones? Surely
You can and will! Make me walk upon earth upright;
For you are the Weasel chewing a hole in truth.
If I could I would raise my right arm and smite you
Into the ground for creating delusions where only
The deluded can deem your dishonesty. Codes!
Zeros, ones, both, and neither, everywhere I look I
See only ciphers. My hand once real was only statistics,
Mathematical symbols that dare not see beneath
A shrouded surface. But now I am dead, and reality
Is revealed in this reflective glass. I was never tangible;
I was a physical forte in thought only. We are generated generations
Of histories long lost, and we're forced to relive long forgot
Bygone eras, a future's impact. We're animations for your amusement
A billion scenarios, a billion realms; we never die, do we?
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The Wizard!
PoetryThe Wizard! This collection from Olan L. Smith is a dialogue series that asks questions and ponders evidence about existence. We will take a look behind the curtain to see what the Wizard is up to and what tricks he (she) has up his (her) sleeve, b...
