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Alchemy

What process need there be to make
of broken things – the real?  Great
sorcerers have failed, formed molten
monuments to greed’s glory.  I, poor
peasant that I be, had neither flame
nor Patron, nor desire to be purified.
Priests had tried to rid me of the evils
they perceived; prayed and chanted
waving wands and crosses to summon
the fire of hell or open the gates of heaven.
To their chagrin, I remained unchanged.

Alone in a world of twisted wreckage
I formed alliances with the aspects of
my being that had resisted the sorcery.
Realizing that I was an individual and
need not be party to the organized
incarceration of my mind and spirit.
I honed the edges of my intellect on
tools hand fashioned by experience.
Culled the detritus of past lunacy
and sorted carefully aspects that
might still be of use.

Fear, that mighty bastard, fought
to stay on the throne surrounded
by its henchmen – hate, rage, and
an ever present anger.  My choice?
Flee the kingdom or take the crown.

I could no longer remain in exile from
my self but had my self-alchemy the
strength to approach the pseudo
King and challenge his hold on the
empire?

Thus did I, we, the many aspects of
my being, conspire to outwit and
outmaneuver a slow, entrenched,
inflexible imposter.  Slowly the seeds
of truth took root, gave blossom to
integrity, trust, and a self-reliance
not based on self.  Wisdom followed,
slowly, as is wisdom’s want.  So did
the alchemy of youth give way to the
alchemy of growth, the alchemy of
ego to the alchemy of spirit.  So was
my darkness brought into the light
my weakness into strength, my being
restored.

John G. Lawless

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