Genie

Although his knowledge was visceral,
Not a bit of mind-play in his parries,
He never lost his smile, a grim
Effort of the will,
forcing the others to turn to escape,
pushing their beasts harder,
grabbing the reins and screaming
the echoes inspiring the others
to race.

Why the colors changed or who
Was driving us to become most of what
We weren’t could not be gleaned,
Yet the energy increased, the entire
Plain swept with golds and grays
And blacks, the bitter
Taste of fear and dust between
Our teeth.

Abruptly he stopped, turning
On the bare-backed horse like some
Evil spirit, and he
Determined each of us should
Pay the price of our potential,
Not a laugh did I hear,
Not a spoken word, just the flash
Of tomorrow, and the dark, dark
Blackness of approaching night.