Saturday, May 26, 2012

Foiling the Fox

Two beings, two persons, two great figures
That walk, and talk, not small miniatures!
They are what they are, and have always been,
Yet seeing them now is victory in
A race, a gamble, an unfair fight! What
Goes on in the head of a man who looks
To see his friend happy? How strange the rut
That a man falls into when in the books
He's counted for his soul, not for his looks.
It leaves a feeling deep within the gut
That causes him pain, a deep gash, a cut.
But he doesn't say a word, speech forsook.
For he knows that wounds only occur when
The fox is let into the coop, the hen
Allowed to be ripped to shreds by his teeth:
When to the fox foolish man doth bequeath
Willingly all of his hopes and dreams. For foxes
Can't do proper mail orders, their boxes
Are all bent and bruised; they leave one wanting,
Searching for what's removed from creation,
Leave them unhappy for life's duration.
Two beings, two persons, two great figures,
Make for a pair divinely cut out. Yet
While the longing heard in the overtures
Of the third, the observer, strongly set,
Makes itself known in the tones of great song,
He comes to terms with his own hopes and dreams,
Hopes that they will be happy, get along;
It's all for the best, is what he deems.
The fox is still there, causing him some pain,
But he relies always upon the Name.
And in the Name the two are made one; and
The observer finds a purpose at hand.
Two beings, two persons, two good friends,
Unified because he died to his own ends.

                   Foiling the Fox, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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