Medieval Mutant Masters

Medieval Mutant Masters
(Musings on Florence)

By David Niall Wilson

City built of temples,
Cathedrals and Baptismal Pools,
Saints and idols,
Saturated in the works
Of men with names larger,
Than their lives,
Who’s visions reign,
Transcendent,
Their bones (long dispersed)
Crumbled into legends.
St. Mark’s Cathedral,
A thousand candles burning
For a thousand prayers
As the bells toll in towers
Old as time herself.
Michelangelo’s metamorphing
Creatures, half man, half stone,
Trapped in eternal struggle,
Metaphors of unintentional brilliance.
David, beautiful and stark,
Standing watch against the Goliath of time,
His sling and stone poised for battle,
His stature undiminished by the years.
Donatello, Raphael, Leonardo,
Mutant Ninja Geniuses from days
Beyond our memory.
So much passion, tied
To stone & canvas, wood & bone –
Souls, once vibrant with life,
Now bound to us by memory alone.
A thousand thousand lives of labor,
love & faith performed
Alchemical Transmutation,
Turning stone to gold.
Vendors sell tiny copies, trinkets,
Imperfect memories to cart away,
And feet still walk where prophets
Routed demons in the name of a King.
Modern priests of decadence infest
The streets, gawking at each new souvenir,
Carrying their trophies to the next temple,
Escorting their wallets to the next shrine.
The city abides, the spirits linger,
And David, carted off in Gucci splendor,
Broods over Jeopardy on mantels,
As Splinter leads the mutant masters
Of our children’s dreams
In search of enlightenment.