He was a trickster
A true master of slight.
The perfect conjurer,
A star shining too bright.

As he moved around the stage
His shiny black robes flowed
The crowd watched him in a daze
At his will,space bent and time slowed.

His art was fantastic
And the presentation surreal
When he did something drastic.
Crowd believed the magic was real.

They thought he could fly
And wondered aloud in amazement.
As he disappeared in the sky
And returned from the basement.

One day a trick went wrong
And no one was wise
But only the magician knew
He had lost his eyes.

The magician survived
In his own dark world
Kept pulling out of his sleeves
A bird after bird.

He did each trick perfectly
Even though he could not see it.
He felt each of his audience
Even though he could not be it.

There was only one trick,
that the magician knew.
That they all see,
but observers are few.

– © Mayank “Sahar” Mishra 2016