I am told

Written by: Samir Georges

I am told
by many a sculpted lip,
told there is a pulsing heart
the shape of a bulbous strawberry
here in this unassuming chest of mine.

I listen to this, with muted ears
that must always hate or take joy
my ears that sit idly by
like trees beneath the torrents
and they bid them feel
sit and feel.

So I am told,
I have a heart that beats
blood that flows
and ears that be
all with ten fingers split.

Oh behold, and a mind that thinks
matter that knows
breath that holds
these hands that mold.

With tones unperturbed
potions undisturbed
they tell me,
little me
that I am as the stone
as the tree, the flitting bumble bee
they tell me I am not to be still
that I am like all else

a vanishing act.

Lo, my brows can arch
my face can feel
with formulas beneath the skin
they tell me
formulas that bid me reel,
for I am mortal still.

Yet here I am
upon this moment
made as I am
at the height of beasts
with powers and magics upon my whim
with wonder and matter in treasure troves
all through my skin.
But all is for naught, these thoughts are mute
the reaping is but a silence
I cannot refute.

crueler than what they tell me
is the rise of the rivers
the aimless rainfall birthing torrents
as potions tip and beakers flow
the arching of my brow
hackles raised upon the growling of my heart,
cruelest yet
is the sadness of the song
whispered upon the leaves
before autumn's fall.

Cog and screw and mind askew,
I have been made a titan machine
that conquered a world
and learned it was but a rock,
the sky was but a window
and I am but a thing
a magic act
in some distant space
at some happenstance and place
and I wonder why the pinnacle of my reason
has thwarted me,
twas all but a thought
that humbled me,

There is no pinnacle to my reach
nor a slum beneath my fall
but the trickery of shadows that raise me tall
kicked up in the wake of autumn's crawl.