Lawrence Sharp Poet Free verse

The Sorcerer's Cloak

He concealed what had no truth,
it was an untruth that forged his power,
yet the concealment was believed
where nothing was concealed.

Beneath his cloak there lurked no trickery,
and no sight of sleight of hand,
for the deception was the illusion of deception,
and his power was magically real.

He cast aside the most valiant foe
with spells unknown,
and machinations of mind and contest,
neither believed nor denied.

He cast aside no wretches,
there was no need to concern himself
with the foolish and the weak,
deception of no deception was conjured.

Adamant, forceful and daring,
he approached his proudest folly,
The Sorcerer spread The Sorceress wide,
his power melted into her guile.

21st September 2018

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Vijay Pandit September 21, 2018 at 2:47 PM Deception of no deception, indeed powerful..then the spells unknown and magical power. In the end he too was done in by his folly. Your poem is mystical..perhaps a metaphor...intriguing as always, Lawrence. Lawrence Sharp September 22, 2018 at 11:36 PM Thanks for reading, Vijay. You're right, entirely metaphoric. I'm pleased if you liked it.