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We, the wizards

Are not sulking, we’re sick

Of your growing

Lack of a creative urge

And now we

Feel your contempt

And your mockery

Metastasing

Inside us

We, the wizards

Have indulged in self doubt

Soothing your angst

With the most banal thoughts

And now we

Have forgotten

Our magic

In the mundane

We’ve found joy

We, the wizards have indulged in your rites!

We, the wizards have indulged in self doubt!

And now we

Have grown cold feet

And the serpent

Is now eating

Its own tail …