THE CONSPIRACY

You can say 

I don’t do that.

I don’t know how.

I'm not...whatever
you think your not.

But that only incenses them,

causes them to conspire 
more fiercely against you.
Or for you, actually.

Their will is like a pulley,

a block and tackle.

You see, it's nothing
for them - let’s call them spirits -

to take a carpenter and turn him into a crooner,

or make a seaman a rhyming mariner

or replace the crone’s rancor with a wry smile.

If they can work this magic

then why couldn't they, wouldn’t they 
give you a purpose

you didn’t know you needed.

It may enter you like a sliver, quick.

Or surprise you like a sucker punch.

Whichever it is,

once the sting has subsided

and you’ve caught your breath again,

you’ll know

that the anchor was only a dream

and the rigging was always love.

And the music is in you too.