Friday, March 14, 2008

The Fool - I



Perched aloft a dangerous cliff,
Percival relaxes, holds a stick,
One end of which is bound with stuff,
His mother sent with him, enough,
To last the arduous path he’ll tread,
That wise men in their hearts dread-
A journey without an aim or goal,
A quest that’s fuelled by restless soul,
A dream of tryst with Princess Right,
Of holding something worth to fight,
A break from haven safe and sound,
One foot in air, below no ground,
His eyes are looking straight ahead,
Another step and he’ll be dead.

His step is light, his heart is pure,
A recipe for disaster, sure,
He trusts in goodness of the world,
His face is bright, his hairs are curled,
He thinks his journey would be fun,
An easy walk, no need to run,
No devils lurking in the dark,
No falls, just dropping like a lark,
And songs while rising in the sky,
No need for ground, he’ll learn to fly.
His hopes are high, he’s such a na├»ve,
He doesn’t know the danger grave
Of having faith in what’s not true,
Of how to fly, he’s got no clue.

He doesn’t even feel the need,
To learn to fly, he doesn’t heed,
The warnings whispered by the winds,
About the cliff, the subtle hints,
The cry of a stone as it falls from high,
Of how that fate for him may lie,
His gaze transfixed by the horizon far,
He feels compelled by his guiding star,
To make a move, towards the place,
Where earth and sky come face to face,
Oh fool! He’ll know that world is round,
If only he could turn around,
He would spare himself a fall that could kill,
And choose a journey down the hill.

The horizon creeping his backside,
Is equally worthy of a ride,
The walk downhill will spare his neck,
His elusive goal within his beck,
He looks determined not to turn,
He has left his past, no heartburn,
No looking behind, no grief at all,
Just forward motion towards his call.
Just what beckons his forward march,
Madness, passion, a damsel dark,
Or lack of worldly wiles and ways,
Or is it just his numbered days.
He needs to fall, then he’ll learn,
That to fly and soar one has to earn,
The goodwill of the winds and wings,
Or the memory of some sweet nothings.


Or the skill to look before you leap,
Of knowing thyself true and deep,
Or a love that’s cherished and is dear,
That makes you put aside your fear,
Of heights and falls and falls and heights,
Of finding you are one of Arthur’s Knights.
Of getting involved in the quest for Grail,
Of not knowing what it means to fail.
But all that lies in future yet,
The fool has still to take that step
That would turn his world upside down,
Either break his muscles or his crown.
And reveal to him what’s in his fate,
An arduous journey or Heaven’s Gate.

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