A Mind's Eye

Fool's Journey

It was long ago and far away
that a restless Fool was born
in a land long gorged with yesterdays
and soil made dense with ageless moss,
whose thickness told of kings and queens
that once upon its carpet tread.
Where every stone along its roads
was once a castle or a wall
and every great adventure done,
all wants and lusts achieved.
A land where time was all used up
and crept at paces
indiscernible to man.

He found himself chained to a land
where only history remained
to echo off the cold stone walls,
entangled in the cobweb snare
of antique minds
entrapped within the shells
of priests and politicians,
prophets, pimps, and kings.

Fool's chains were soft,
yet held him none the less
and he just like Prometheus,
endured the feast he had become,
his soul each day devoured
and each starry night renewed.

Fool walked across the jig-saw lands
on fields where millions died,
where ghosts spoke tongues
he did not understand
and blood-drenched earth
in vibrant poppies bloomed.
The birds and crickets sang their songs
where screams once filled the air.
Upon these haunted plains he slept
and dreamt of ancient glories earned
through nameless corpses
buried with their foes.

While in repose the Fool could hear
a phantom siren's call,
"Go to that place," Apollo's Sybil said,
"across the mighty sea,
where time is yet unwritten,
where the future is unknown,
where the tower is uncrumbled
and the Empress builds her home."
Then with a laugh, the oracle,
now left Fool's fateful dream
replaced with visions of a world
which Fool had never seen.

When sunlight next his body bathed
and snapped his mind awake,
he gathered up his meager pack,
then spread his arms out wide
and danced a dervish whirl beneath
his country's stagnant skies.

Fool marched with purpose onward
toward the distant calling sea,
past shattered ruins that stank of dust,
decayed by time and long forgot,
with Sybil as his guide.

The Fool each night before he slept
danced 'neath the star-filled sky
and sang of days he yearned to see,
of love and hope,
here long since lost,
but promised in the wind,
from far across the ocean deep
where lofty dreams were born.

Fool reached the ocean's endless deep
and stared across its blue,
while those behind him
mocked his dream
and cursed his hope
and laughed at him
when once again he danced his dance
beneath the smiling moon.

Without a backward glance, the Fool,
built his boat beside the sea
as staid old men in dark grey suits
sang songs of death with glee.

Upon the briny deep Fool sailed
through seasons cold and cruel,
but never once did Fool lose hope,
despite his nagging doubt,
for in his heart,
his gentle soul
refused to see the dark.

And then one day,
near death he lay,
the sun was newly born,
when seagulls sang
in restless gangs
to herald in the dawn
and there before his anxious eyes,
a beach of purest sand.
With soaring heart,
the Fool debarked
and stepped upon the land.

Upon the virgin shore,
beneath the crowded sky,
on lavender and fields of mint,
the Fool in bliss did lie,
without the weight of history
or anarchy of time,
without the doubt which haunted him
or visions of decline.

Now rested on the foreign shore
Fool kicked his heels in play
and danced a dance of thankfulness,
in joy,
complete,
this day.
His journey done,
his soul renewed,
Fool raised his voice in song,
while all the stars
in heaven's host,
sang silently along.