(
Part 1)
(
Part 2)
Gently cradling the tired and dusty one,
The visitor joins in the tears,
Two souls join in the mourning awakening demands
Words insufficient, unfound, yet superfluous,
In silence they mourn to an unsung dirge.
The weathered face struggles to look up,
With great effort, with last breaths,
Fear, unfathomable sadness from the dimmed eyes,
Accent the question rasped out,
"Must I? Oh, friend, must I?"
Fresh tears join the rivulets already forded
As the visitor holds the Fool closer,
Gently, tenderly, kindly, whispers,
"Yes, my friend, but together let's advance.
Let's stand, brothers, and face this final task."
His last breath expended, the Old Fool assents
One final nod, the realization complete.
And as they rise, the last of the spark drains,
On his feet again, the visitor alone remains,
A dry, dusty shell now all he's cradling.
Cold settles into the decrepit remains,
The Fool now released from his prison,
His victim gone, the visitor mourns now alone.
This righteous deed...the merciful murder...
The reasons feel hollow, plaintive, and numb.
The killer gently lays his victim on the dusty tiles,
A final resting place, an epilogue to a tale long done.
The executioner reaches out, and gently, tenderly, sorrowfully,
Closes those eyes of sorrow for the last time,
"Forgive me, my friend. May you find your peace now."
Before this plea is fully complete,
The murderer shrieks and jumps back aghast,
As the body before him crumbles like so much loose dust.
The dust is carried away, though no breeze is felt.
The wonder replaces the horror, as the room awakes.
Like a waking giant, the room seems to rumble.
The dust that had grayed this temple of sorrow
Washes away, slowly vanishes as the room brightens
Rapidly, years roll back, the heaviness of time lifts,
The room recalls its glory the world had long forgotten.
Stupefied and amazed, a murderer stands alone,
A living centerpiece in a dazzling miracle of rebirth.
As the brightness and light finish their invasion,
The furthest, darkest corner now bathed in life and glow,
The head table is revealed, and with it the truth...
...
With that, we leave our visitor, our murderer, our executioner,
To meet with his forgiveness, absolution, and validation.
And while what he met, what he saw, what he learned was for him alone,
We can leave you with this:
In the past lies both joy and sorrow,
Both ecstasy and pain,
Both need and satisfaction,
Both loss and all that is whole.
It is both the best and the worst.
But it is merely the past.
It cannot be the present,
And it can never be tomorrow.
It can be a lesson for life,
But it cannot be life.
It can inform the present,
But it cannot inhabit the present.
Most grasp this as self-evident,
But not all can so easily.
A past, forced to live in the present,
Is merely an empty, hollow shell.
It is death masquerading as life.
Will you choose life?
Will you live?
Or will you become merely the echoes of steps in an empty ballroom?
---------------------------
From: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I10Cxv7qHJ8
--
The Old Fool
“If liberty means anything at all it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.” -George Orwell.
Blog - Musings of an Old Fool by
Juan Lopez is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at
lopezj4141.blogspot.com.
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