Magna of Illusion
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Cornwall and the harbor Where witches went mad more than once and Until this day In dreams at least The lighthouse at lost Christabel Squat and hugely tilts Upon the strand where granddad's house was built And having stood the test of time The starry gale the bloody tide Grandad's house though gaped with hooks And filled with books Could stand no more until A certain prophecy Once read - now stood Before the world fulfilled Now of these books in granddad's keep Some of them were new but mostly they were old And the oldest was a scroll A prophecy that read When the riddle begins The story will end August the first 1892 And in the guise of destiny Grandad quit Cornwall I'm a captain of a ship My ship is charmed, and called Plutonia. Stories on land, storms at sea 'tween 1892 and '93 When grandad sailed for Mexico Ships charmed and ordinary Sailed the glidepath to the sun And when the sun proved false As it always does Some of them would be lost And some would sail back home It was no star But a magna of illusion I mean by that The mirror found In the chamber of jade grown like a seed Deep within the ground The mirror found By one man So on and off again He sailed the Europe's rim On and off, off and on Until his time had come Through tears and smiles The last domain The rods of broken crystal On and off, and off again Until his time had come Late to the story that had been But early to the riddle not yet begun August the first 1893 The charmed ship Plutonia Sailed like a ray into Cornwall And none too soon it seems That night the captain's granddaughter Would celebrate her birthday I've come a long way, said the captain From lost Christabel this night Accompanied by my dog familiar To blast your rafters with my surprise! Granddaughter, it's a foreign mirror Taken from the jungle by crime! Stories on land, storms at sea 'tween 1892 and '93 When grandad sailed for Mexico When tables collapse And floors have filled And the party's over, it's all over Sea-dogs and rockers will dwell on doom I've warped the stuff of ground What seems to be is not Behind closed eyes Realize your sight Mine, granddaughter, proves a surprise More light than sun More dark than night then More a snare than lust
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