Transformation

In the secluded seashore of isolation islands, people build desire castles with dream sands, protect the fragile precincts with fervent care from the beleaguering waves breaking on them. The strife surge washes away the forlorn abodes, grief is hidden in insular souls of lonely people. With magical spell I will change them into convivial people, they will be gregarious. Behind the closed windows on sunlit meadows, enveloped by the seamless drape of dismal darkness, people morph into dense slices of moonless night. Along their formless periphery I pass them by, but can’t see through the obscurity, can’t perceive the true substance of the opaque people. With magical spell I will turn them into transparent people, they will shine like crystals. Reticent people fly like frigid birds in the misty sky, their restrained wings flap aloof in the chilled wind. In the crevasse of their glacial hearts frozen emotions sink, can’t soar in the spring sky. The warm embrace of empathy they don’t feel, for they are condemned as cold people. With magical spell I will convert them into affable people, they will conform congeniality. Despondent people make their lives desolate desert, the charm of oasis desiccates in the dunes of discontent. Blazed by the flare of their scorched minds the foliage of ardent passions burns, doesn’t rustle with the tune of impassive melody of their hearts, for they are denounced as wooden people. With magical spell I will transform them into verdant trees, they will sprout joie de vivre. ______________ February 28, 2023 For Brian Strand Premier No. 1192