The Wiz Kid

"Most people are content to put their trust in far less powerful allies, mere men and not equipped with wisdom such as mine. But I that have never ceased to watch over you in all your adventures am a goddess."
Athena to Odysseus, Iliad, Book XX

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Tomorrow is the anniversary of my nativity, and I have to admit, it has been a rough ride. As many others in this world, my childhood was marked by great expectations, many which didn’t come to pass. The following lines are inspired by such prospects and how my views on intelligence have changed over the years. I know I will sound presumptuous to those who do not know me personally, but I can assure you it is as truthful as it reads.

A nice warm cup of jasmine tea makes the perfect infusion for these grey Autumn days.
The image depicts an Athenian Owl, symbolizing wisdom and strategy.

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Once in the shiny land of innocence,
Where the air smells like gum,
But never incense,
I was told I was a Wiz.

I did not know
What it really meant,
But I did know
That there were higher stakes for me
Than for the rest.

And through the ever changing times
I vowed to please,
I tried to tribute,
What I was meant to be.

I gathered prizes
And collected awards
I peddled smiles for the adults,
Whose world I wanted
To conquer one day…

I endured the cruel,
Grey days of adolescence
Using wit as a shield,
And sometimes even fists.

I have been violent,
Reckless and proud,
But always kept my vow
And as I could I would
And remained number one.

With the mind set firmly
I would look out sternly
At the finish line
Which was always on sight.

Through familiar decay,
Poverty, illness and madness
I kept on going
To prove myself
I was still a Wiz.

Youth came and shone even brighter,
Bright as rays of golden sun,
But as the strife grew harder
It started to dim its light.

Even the greatest of stars
Eventually dwarf and expire,
Within the masses of nebulae.
Being only the surviving core,
The difference between a neutron and a black hole,
Much as ourselves…

Once I was told I was a Wiz,
But a Wiz is as a Wiz does,
And as we grow older
We aren’t as witty and funny.

We are forced into the wilderness
With too much enthusiasm,
Overconfidence and theoretical knowledge,
To understand the main gift of life
Should be resilience and endurance.

Endurance,
Faith and endurance
Faith in endurance
And faith in fate.

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Rebirth

The past month was a strange coming together of dark forces, which I have been trying to dispel. For the first time I faced the uncertainty of our carcasses, and that was exposed in the last poem I posted back in April, “Body is treacherous”. At the same time, nothing went according to plan and I ended nearly scavenging for funds, submerged in debts. As the say goes, when you’re tight and sick your only refuge can be love, and in my case it was…
As cheesy as it may sound to anyone who dares read my words, I rediscovered the simple life I hold together with my life partner Rob, as something more precious than anything external. Comfort is nice, but surplus nevertheless. That seems to be the lesson I was able to snatch from the pits of the Darkness.
Going back to straight tea with milk, to eventually pick up the pace of my forsaken log.


Lady Astor

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Fortuna, come hither!
I dance at your whim
Through the tides of time,
Could you at least for once
Give me a beneficial chance?

Sitting and fretting
On the cold grey marble floor
Of the behemoth public hospital facilities,
As I listen to female nonsensical chatter
I expect resolutions for my ailing body.

A connected string of bad omens,
Never been one out of worries
And though my body resisted,
My emotions however
Have proven much less resilience.

With each blow I less expect
And have almost forfeited
The narrow chances of success
I might have had some time ago,
When my spring bore the signs of Hope.

So dear Fortuna I beg of thee,
Bless me with your bountiful smile,
Dress my soul with robes of gold
And repave my path with Trust.
Lest you want this loyal friend
To forever lose her Faith.


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