By Roland E. Williams


My old master took me down this road

He said, “My boy, let me explain who you are”

He took a shard of glass that magnifies and held it in one hand

I was happy to see his old frail fingers were not shaking

“See now,” he said, “creation at work”

He smiled at me and showed me where to look

“I have created that which was not there.

How often have you seen such a marvel,

like the fire we have just lit, my boy?”

With just one step he uncreated his entire work

and said to me, “My boy, you are the poet

you know not of yourself to be”

As he set out to show me



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