"Do you fear," asked the nightmare alchemist,

"Death, famine, or does your heart twist at being left alone?"

"No," I said, "a mind that is not my own"

"You are afraid of not having freedom?"

I kept quiet, as to mislead him, but to no avail,

And I could have sworn that my face turned pale

A feather drop, a feather was enough

To bring the whole world to ruin and to shed its slough off—

The nightmare alchemist fills my dream's trough

"What else are you afraid of, please, tell me!"

"What scares me is when I am too carefree and not cautious,"

I answered and started to feel nauseous

"You're afraid of having too much freedom?"

I kept quiet, as to mislead him, but to no avail,

And I could have sworn that my face turned pale

"I'll build gluttony from fire atoms,

You will devour, your mouth's stratum growing and your gut—

Full of desires that you cannot shut

Guilt will consume you like termites eat dirt,

I shall call this a great deal, it will hurt and drive you mad,

'The art of the alchemist!' they will add

And finally— what passion I would have

To divide the subconscious mind and halve it into two:

First ecstasy, then rue swallowing you!

I will give, then take away your freedom"

I kept quiet, as to mislead him, but to no avail,

And I swear my face was paler than pale




© shishmish