no magic

my love for ease prevents that release

of the creative energy
stored deep within my soul
my fear to take risk fails to kick

the engine that needs a kick-start

leaving me in bed
to the comfort of that lie:
my body needs more sleep

i then turn to you for cheap grace

believing the unbelievable
until you kick me on my face
to pull myself together

and work hard for my release

or, to be damned in that relief of my own
more sleep and slumber
that knowledge, in my mind, increase:

that with you there is no magic

turning stones into bread
or, skipping the consequences
of my acts – good, or bad

while i focus not on the worth

of wealth, immerse me in the wisdom
that makes you to send the sun
shine on both good and evil

and the rain on wheat and weeds

viewing the wayside pampas grass
in the same way
you glance at the great oak