The passing of the alchemist: A poem 

Sifting for gold amid the chaff 

His sacred mission needs no epitaph 

And while his form was tattered and worn 

His grit and determination always shone 

Never forgetting to do the alchemist’s turn 

Even as his roses did burn 

That though it was not games and fun 

The magical magnum opus was done 

Mendicant, wizard, vision of a dream 

His soul afire, he swam upstream 

No matter how dark the world had been 

God’s light is the prize that was seen 

And child-like he was lost in the quagmire 

But his flame came blazing through the mire 

Though life had comprised the dire  

His thunderous unheard voice never did tire 

That base metal can never be ground 

The gold is within, that’s what he found 

With that knowledge, he breathed his last 

Then a life so epitomic had come to pass