The sages dance upon the beach
slyly glancing each to each
–have you read my last sensation?
did you catch its implication?
(with hopeful laugh and challenge-stare)
–I plucked it out of sacred air.
the non-elite find nothing there
save what to breathe and blow away,
an ancient dream an old cliché,
when they meet and love and play:
“we are part of something great
bigger than our simple fate.”
they are part of something trite.
when did you begin to write?
simon thinks he’s quite a wit;
simon is a hypocrite.
have you read my latest book?
how long did you have to look
before you spotted such acumen?
what a pity we are human.
the sages dance beyond the waves
singing while the ocean raves;
the sky’s what makes the earth a gem,
but all the world is greek to them.
Ah! The world is big Again,
Bigger than all mankind again;
And the stars are little and pretty
And don’t belong to us.
These little worlds
All are springs
of an old tattle-tale bed;
with bored little squeaks
the universe lies waiting
in the night.
The black dunes loom above me now
And they alone are near.
Behind them and above them and around them
Spreads the distant sky–
Far and cold and sparkle grey
With something in it shouting,
“You’ll always be alone!”
© Loren Frickel