Dear Wizard

This arrogant strut brings me no closer to serendipity.

I sit on my hands and let myself drown.  

In my credulity, I let the wizard make craft of my head;

Terraform my cerebellum with wonders contrived from science.

I wonder what value he sees; for when I roll back my eyes and look into my skull,

I see only a charlatan.

Oh wizard, what brings you here?

What amalgam have you brought this wrought child?

Could you cast magics to make this cavernous chasm pregnant with life?

These scenes are best left to witches, or on front doors as Halloween decorations.

My apologies, dear wizard, but I needn’t your spells today.

May this chasm leave you slack-jawed in mirth, lest it remain vacant—parched.

If you cast one spell, dear wizard—artisan of the conscious—make it one to bring forth the rain.