Magenta Imaginings

The Alchemist

I read Coelho’s tale a decade ago,
Or was it two?

I wondered (and wandered),
who was I, what was my dream,
could I dare to be – a magician?

And I tried to be, and I tried to be.

Years went by.
Much toiling, many tears.
Loves and laughs and losses.

And then I met him, well actually,
I already knew him.

Unexpected.
No white horse,
No flags waving, not even a bell chiming.
Rather – quiet, modest, unassuming.
The Holy Grail.

He was a magician.
Transforming my heart and my mind, my life.
Mixing metals, by hand,
and pouring them into new shapes.

Copper and nickel,
all hard and shiny,
like silver and steel.

There were other souls to heal.
The alchemy of me almost complete,
it seemed, he wasn’t mine to keep.

So now I wonder and I wander.
Not unlike an Orphan,
lost in time and in space.

But keeping my eyes on the road ahead,
Looking to meet my destiny,
The one he offered me.

To bring compassion to the Warriors,
‘Magic’ them into Rulers of strength and justice and truth and wisdom

To bring passion to the Creators,
Fuel their energy with acceptance and commendation

And to bring peace to the Mothers,
whose children never lived.

Like a well-travelled Sage, who has come home full of life’s lessons,
Who understands the mysteries of the cosmos, without knowing why,
I watch the archetypes of my life, of all of our lives, parade before my eyes.

It was the Alchemist that made it happen.

And so I find, or I already knew?
The meaning of life, and purpose anew.

 

 

© 2017 Carla Santamaria, Magenta Blues – All Rights Reserved

 

 

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