Friday, June 21, 2013

The Kite-Flying Rat

The Kite-Flying Rat


“You can see that you'll be dying,” said the spider to her prey,
As spirit looked at spirit in the eye,
“But it's out of love I do this, to be one with you in body
As in essence – as you know you can't deny.”


“Money makes the world go 'round,
Money makes it go.
Remember, dear, when you are grown,
Your mother told you so...

“So you’d better find your money, dear,
And sock your stash away.
For then you’ll never have to fear
That you’ve no cash to pay.”


Eat and be eaten, for that's how it is
As you're climbing the ladder of life.
A lifetime of sorrow, for a moment of bliss,
And your birth in this vortex of strife...

There's the worker who's fired and the one who's retired,
And they both have no income today.
There's the child who is dying and the mother who's crying,
For where is the money to pay?


I was walking and dreaming and heard, in my dream,
A sound that I'd heard in the past –
The sound of a kite as I stood on a roof
With a string that was reeling out fast.

I could hark to the sound of the kite in the wind,
I could feel how it tugged on the string.
I could pull and release, I could see the kite dive,
I could see it then rise and take wing.

On a zephyr it drifted, on a westerly wind,
And it floated and sank in the east.
But when the wind freshened, it rose on an arc,
That kite – and the heart in this beast.

There's a heart in this beast and a beast in that heart,
And that beast has a story to tell.
But that beast cannot speak – it can smile, it can weep,
And there's nothing it wishes to sell.

For the beast in our hearts is a kindlier beast
Than the beasts that are governed by mind.
Like the kite, it can soar, like the kite, it can dive.
It's a sensitive beast – you will find.


I captured and 'prisoned a dark little mouse,
In a jar with a lid that had holes.
And it leaped to escape and it injured its nose
On the sharps of that lid that had holes.

I went, with the mouse in that jar, to a field,
Where the grasses were waving in wind.
And I saw the mouse run, but it limped as it ran
And I knew that its captor had sinned.


I dreamed that I witnessed a kite-flying rat
That had weights, on its back, as a load.
And yet, with a gust, it was torn from its perch
And fell to its death on the road.

I dreamed that I knelt and I gentled that rat
That twitched as it struggled to die.
And as it was dying I took off its load
And left it unfettered to lie.


I dreamed that a hound was pursuing a deer –
And I saw the hound leap at the deer.
I saw the deer struggle and I saw the deer die –
And I saw its eyes widened in fear...

But the hound, with its fangs – it had love in its heart...
It knew little of music or math...
And yet, it had feeling – and feeling sans art –
Like the deer and the mouse and the rat...


I saw that a peasant was tilling the field
With the rays of the sun on his head.
I saw that a worker was limping, at dusk,
To sleep for awhile on his bed.

And the face of the worker was darkened with grime,
From his chin to the gray of his locks...
And the brow of the peasant was furrowed by woe,
As he struggled with plow and with ox...


I walked by the ocean, when the sun had gone down
And the stars had appeared in the sky.
I walked by the ocean and I heard the waves roar,
And I asked of the spirit, “Oh why?”

I walked by the ocean, with the stars in the sky,
And I saw, in the waters, a light.
In the darkness it flashed, with a glow that was green,
In the dark of the ocean at night.


I can still hear the sound of the wind on the kite,
I can see it dive down and then soar.
I can see how it climbs to the clouds up on high,
I can hear, in the silence, its roar.

There's the wave and the wind and the kite-flying rat
And the body that lies on the road.
And we wonder at this, the world we are in,
And we ask, why we carry this load.

There's the mouse that is limping, with blood on her nose,
And she's searching for those that she left.
There's the little ones squeaking, for mother that's gone.
There's a world, that's of pity, bereft.

There's the hound with the deer and the deer with her child
And the hound with her puppies that cry.
There's the white of the eye in the deer that will die,
And the beast that is crying out, “Why?”

There's the lord of the land, with his mansion so grand,
And the peasant who swears as he tills.
There's the worker who toils, who is blackened with oils
As he slaves for the man with the mills.


There's the one who's retired and the worker who's fired
And neither has income today.
There's the mother who's dying and the child who is crying,
For who has the money to pay?

Eat and be eaten, for that is the way,
The way of the world and of life.
Abandon your shame, as you're playing the game,
The game of the dollar and knife.


“Money makes the world go 'round,
Money makes it go.
Remember, dear, when I am gone,
Your mother told you so...

“What happened to your money, dear,
The money that you earned?”
“It’s mostly gone to bankers, mom,
And some of it, I burned.”


“I see that you are dying,” said the predator to prey,
As each of them saw other in the eye,
“But know, you will be living, oh my spirit, in this flesh.
So fear not – for I'll eat you, as you die.”

2013 June 16th, Sun.
(with additions during the week)


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