the alchemist | A Poem
- May 5
- 2 min read
The Alchemist
I called you
an alchemist,
and you laughed
I protested, “you are!”
and you laughed again
sheepish at the thought of such a thing;
to be called an extinct type of
philosopher.
and still I insisted,
“beneath your hands, I am poetry!”
“beneath your hands, your touch sings—
‘you are all I’ve asked the universe for’”
and if Midas’s touch
was yours,
I’d be stained gold
from your finger tips.
this is the alchemy
you do
transmuting the ephemeral to
eternal
and though you laugh,
I wonder—
do you not see?
that to me
you are the philosopher’s stone.
Concluding Thoughts
I wrote this poem years ago, and it is one that I am particularly fond and proud of. I actually had this it up on my blog ages ago and had decided to take it down due to personal reasons, but after reconsideration and perusing my poems folder on my notes app, I realized I still love the poem enough to want it to live digitally on my little corner of the internet. So I edited it, reworked it, and voilá~ Here it is.
I hope, dear reader, that you enjoyed it.
See ya in the next blog~
—Bair✍︎
Where epic fantasy meets philosophical ponderings of the self.
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