Healing? Perfection, you say? Did you believe
That tidy sum of legends, convenient quatrains and ancient tales,
These, the recipes for centuries will produce the cure for what ails
You and yours? Do you pray that all of theirs was yours to achieve?
Every saint and seer on the viral booksleeves
Of philosophies, theosophies and all their prophesies have revealed
Answers to the riddle of the Sphinx and while they’re dead,
you live to break the Seal,

You alone redress the wounds of poverty, the plea to bleed
The truth and overcome the odds-on favourite at the mall,
the quintessential finish line and be on track in time for curtain calls?
Possibly you’ve penned a line to cinch the magic formula for a first edition haul;
Perhaps a second coming, a third, or possibly the greatest of them all.
No doubt, you’ve found a tail to match the last donkey out of town, fruition
of your ever waking moment to engage the world, a thaumaturge of intellect,
a new-hatched cacophony of casuistry to claim the vacant chair of erudition.


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