The Magician’s Wardrobe

Where it is or it rests
I shall never know
Far beyond the seas of time
Or the oceans far below

Do you know, or do you wonder
Then you’ll have to take my word
Though even me, I’d doubt, I know
Or any little bird

The wardrobe is cunning
And clever, yes, it seems
Dodging light of any mind
And the moons vast subtle beams

But I’ll try to tell the story
While it lasts, with my pen
And the wardrobe will decree
I’ll forget, again, then

For it’s been in my thoughts
Like a dream barely remembered
A fire forgotten long
An ashen gray ember

That which flares in my mind
For a time now and then
Leaving when I speak of it
Escaping this dull den

The magician alone keeps them
All the thoughts through time and more
In that wood wardrobe of his
With what he wishes them for

I’m not for sure the making though
Whether wooden or of thought
But it crawled at his fingers beckon
Gossamer magic begot

And it housed all the universe
And all things far beyond
It was the lake and the shore
And the fish inside the pond

It made miracles too
From a tiny diamond sack
He pulled them out bent over
Stooping his magic back

He reached in, ripped and pulled
Perhaps without seeing
That sack made of itself
Made from its own being

Then it crumpled on itself
Having shown its worth
The magician acknowledged potential
From that small creator’s birth

Then he snared up that smooth sack
Formed it into a square
Made it look just like a wardrobe
And the thing just didn’t care

Millennia went by
Then billions of those
Then trillions and further
He thought, “How the time goes…”

He encompassed all space
Spread and so far
He encapsulated worlds
From dust speck to star

He was nothing at all
Compacted so whole
Like the event he created
Of a shining black hole

The wardrobe still sat
In his mind or in ours
Or in space or in time
In light years and hours

So extracting with his will
The stories and such
He created more life
That perhaps was far too much

He made spirits at first
Summoned from deep
And a loch ness as well
For some monster to keep

He made giants and heroes
Foes for each other
He made people die
At expenses of mothers

He made blood fill up water
And part with some hand
And some crowd walked through it
Over bloody wet land

He cackled at such
And he would not stop there
He made forests and such
And orange colored air

Along with vast complex planets
With all colors around them
With toadstools of blue
And heavenly rims

There were thieves of all sort
With knives and the rest
Who all squabbled for riches
And the head of the mess

So the magician put forth
From the closet within
Dragons for treasure
And a hoarders sharp grin

They watched the treasure forever
From they time they were born
‘Til they left lands and sauntered
Onto places forlorn

So some life sought to ponder
Over where it all came
And made statues of worship
And some made up some name

He made wars over worship
Made people kill in that name
And people killed for all time
Always displacing blame

The wardrobe grew weary
And started to shift
It grew stronger and brighter
Which caused a life rift

The wizard took advantage
And drew from the glory
While the worlds kept on dying
And the wars much more gory

The box and magician
They grew far apart
But the reach was connected
An intrinsic cruel heart

For they both became bigger
If one can call it that
For bigger is human
Not a magician’s lot

And with bigger came greater
Or perhaps smaller with power
They both realized that then
In that deplorable hour

The magician pulled stops
And continued the pain
And the worlds trudged on
In some holy name

New facets came along
That some wouldn’t believe
Like monsters unheard of
That gave little reprieve

Love came along next
With the seeking of truth
Both which jaded the old
And perplexed the youth

Other worlds also
Knew things we now write
Stories told to our children
Just before it turns night

Sailors with ships
Made of stars and bone
Sailing through skies
Or a seas that were lone

Necromancers too
And vampires as well
Things lived in the worlds
Not just in our own hell

Ghosts of November
Wielding guns and swords
Whispering and firing
Making food for the birds

Graveyards were endless
Tombs upon tombs
Housing the no longer
In eternal dead wombs

Some worlds he left barren
Devoid of all strife
Forgotten by the wardrobe
And given no life

Some worlds were tortured
Raped burnt and slain
And in the mind of the wizard
The closet was the bane

For such a long time
For infinite years
The wizard still decides
If to end death and tears

I for one still hold hope
Because it’s all that I’ve got
That the wizard will save us
But perhaps he shall not

Now these thoughts slip away
For he’s sensing this rhyme
Like all things from the wardrobe
We have precious small time…

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