His face is painted with fresh blood
He will look into your eyes and see the mysteries of your soul
A power, he inherited from his ancestors of yore.

He touches you with his wisdom
A predestined fortune that was bestowed a thousand of years ago
By a secret society of so-called men of dubious order

He can see your future in a crystal ball
And play with fire as against the common rule
Faith to him it seems is just a fancy of fools

He derived his power from the opal moonlight
He got his strength from the eyes of the needles in his lap
The night is his friend and the wind is his ally

He is an alchemist par excellence
He concocts aromatic herbs in a Tupperware
He polishes ancient stones with soiled rags for his tool
He rubs them crazy in circular motions
Blinding our eyes, mystifying our minds

He is the man we dreaded, the one we abhorred
He is a shaman; just like you and me.

#

11/25/2003