Tuesday, October 17, 2006

The Crystal Cage

In the mountains of Anhedonia,
a prisoner stood in a crystal cage,
shivering in fretful delirium,
his anguish paced, measured in frozen rage.

Long he had fled the poisonous vipers,
the wolves of destruction, the noise of sin,
he could not bear the night of his despair.
He found a sparkling den, and ran right in.

But what had he done? The door closed behind
his back and then its outlines disappeared.
His hard-won refuge held him now,
confinedwithin its mirrored walls and mystery.

For years he stood there in the darkened glade,
helplessly watching the seasons pass by.
Once, through the cage he spied a cheery face.
He raised his hand and mouthed a wordless cry.

The face that met him through the glass was kind,
belonging to a person ripe in lore.
"I know your secret name. I am your friend,"
said a patient voice, pronouncing one word.

All around the captive, glass walls shattered.
The stranger grasped his hand and led him on,
down the hill they leapt, bounded and clattered,
until they reached the valley far below.

The scent of harvest fruits was in the air,
the leaves were at their peak of dappled gold.
He heard the song of geese returning home,
he felt the man release him from hand's hold.

"Now I must leave you, my brother and friend.
As long as you help others, you'll be free,
but when the wolves are growling, face your fears.
In time, you'll grow, become as strong as me."

And disappearing into morning mists,
the stranger was gone.
Alone as before,
he took the stranger's words to heart,
and kissed
the ground below, then breathed the autumn air.

Now, when he hears the haunting, hissing growls,
and sees the shards of crystal in his sights,
he hurls them at the wolves, right in the jowls.
His fortress walls are service unto ... Life.

Monday, October 16, 2006


I wondered ...

how the spinning particles
know their dance;
how the singer sings
the unsung;
how the the writer
names the unnamed;'
how the painter
reveals the unseen;
how the sculptor
moves his hands.
Then I leaned ...
into my pain,
and felt myself,
weightless, spinning.

the song of a shell sapphire melting inside jade a color unnamed Ofra Haza's version of this song defies categoriz...

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