Such an unexpected fickle development
That not even Sand could detect through its many passings,
As if to its presence, foresight was left in annulment,
But It’s not that in insight he is ever lacking,
Nor that any composition can escape his scythe’s movement,
But that the most peculiar expectancy could be happening.
Who could believe that it could be grasp and lowered,
Taken from its sit of power and dominantly cornered,
So profoundly out-normed until fully harnessed,
Making it into a personal wonder that is fully mastered,
Allowing one to become a walking contradiction, that unruly shatters,
All law and stablished foundation, defying that predetermined disaster,
Denying the hands of fate to fulfill the will of the Primordial Caster.
How outraging it must be for it to happen,
Not once, but twice, this should surely sadden,
As this act delays his collecting of the ashen,
Since this should be easy prey, for he to fatten.
And thus it’s such mystery, that he can’t fathom,
How could the one who should have maddened,
Has managed a feat that even the Caster could not imagen.
Conquering the attributes that should torment him into a phantom.
Turning both, rage and madness, into tools of creative enthusiasm.
And thus, defying the natural order, the artist holds logic in ransom,
Eternally angering the Caster, achieving what could no anthem,
An Immortalization, that would allow his work to eternally spasm
Heaven and earth, and even hell’s deepest chasm,
Deeply hurting the angels’ humor and the devil’s sarcasm.
By: Jan M. Ramos