Magic is Madness
“If I sang you a love song, would you think me mad?”
“Most likely.” she answered.
“Why, darling, how sad.”
And he laid out his bones as a bridge for her feet
For though she could break him,
she made him complete.
And though he could lead her astray, he did not
But blew her to dust
with a look and a thought.
She read him her wisdom from borrowed life notes,
And he held her hostage
with lips to her throat.
And, for her, to love him was never a choice,
For magic is madness,
and hers was his voice.
– s. Clark
If you should happen, on your way,
To pass beyond the pavement
To find your freedom, for a time,
From brick and beam enslavement
If you should drift out far enough,
You’ll come to be recaptured
Within a hall of ageless trees,
And find yourself enraptured.
If you should wander there, my child,
Keep careful watch, and listen.
Take heed of every rustling leaf,
Each dew drop as it glistens.
Hold fast, and feel the solid earth
Sink slightly underneath you,
Breathe in the scents of time and space
And let their swell enwreath you.
The magic of this world does not
Reside in concrete plaster
That we construct to wall us in
And hem us from disaster.
It is out there, in rising tides
And plunging roots of mountains,
It flies across the vibrant skies
And falls in crystal fountains.
If you should roam out far enough
That you escape our edges,
If you can wander through our world
And plummet from its ledges,
Then fall away, my daring love,
And seize the scattered magic.
For wasting here within these walls
Is nothing short of tragic.
– s. Clark
Come, and I will spin for you
A tale of long ago
You may know legends, strong and true,
Who slayed an evil foe
Or heard you tell of mages fair
Whose power came to grief?
But not a legend can compare
To lore of valiant Leif
In Terratarn, the Land of Swords,
Where war seems not to cease,
In fields removed from brawling lords,
Our hero lived in peace
Leif felt not of wealth bereft
Nor need to conflict raise
In patient silence, gladly left
The fools their wicked ways
But he could turn aside no more
The day, within his glade,
A fighting band made blood to pour
From townsmen, helpless slayed
They laughed, and riding, burned the woods
That Leif called friend and home
Scarred and stained the earthen good
He loved, and lived to roam
In rage he dashed into the night
Beneath a raven cloak
The hateful band knew not their plight,
What force they had awoke
So when Leif came upon their camp,
Stepped boldly in their midst,
Some brutes began to laugh and stamp,
Their comrades smirked and hissed
“What fool is this, approaching now,”
They snickered in their pride
“With fury etched upon his brow?
We’ll flay your skinny hide!”
Unheeding of the stranger’s ire,
The raiders leapt to fight
By magic’s will, Leif took their fire
He would not need the light.
The only sound ever betrayed
The dogs to coming doom
Was ring of drawing ebon blade,
Unseen within the gloom
Their cries rang out into the air
And listeners could not tell
If pain and torment they heard there
Came up from earth or hell
The moon looked on in silence, and
The stars shone bright, but still
As though in judgment by the land
For all the men had killed
When dawn revealed the scene that day,
A score of rogues lay dead
And crimson rivers ran, to pay
For blood that they had shed
Now ever if you walk within
The land called Terratarn
You may hear whispers, tense and grim,
From those who would bring harm
The lords have fallen, in their wrongs
Received their dark reward
Let villains fear, for night belongs
To Leif, the Shadow-Sword.
– s. Clark
Shigé Clark Writing 