DP Tool Club 15/CD_ASCQ_15_070894.iso/vrac/zrunr30.zip/PENTACLE.TXT

Text File | 1994-01-31 | 50KB | 1,346 lines

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                   pentacle

                  By Jared P. DuBois

             (c) Copyright 1990, 94 Jared P. DuBois


                   Contents

                   Part 1

      -  Starry-eyed and Boisterous    -  Plateau
      -  The Imposter                  -  Never have I lived
      -  Outgrown Innocence            -  Temporarily Occupied
      -  In My prime                   -  Regrets
      -  To Wit                        -  Now is the time
      -  Aimed to Wander               -  What was then
                                       -  Contemplating Freedom

                   Part 2

      -  Waiting                       -  My Country
      -  Distance Closes In            -  Askance Anew
      -  Waking                        -  How Tastes Truth
      -  Ever unexpectedly, joy        -  Every Word
      -  Time Again                    -  Tomorrow
      -  In Ignorance                  -  The Sun
                                       -  Where within deceit

                   Part 3

                 -Falling through time
                 -Distant Shores
                 -Vestabur (Short Version)









                    Part 1


               Starry-eyed and Boisterous

         Starry-eyed and boisterous
           I soar higher than my imagination flies
          eagerly meeting heavenly surprises
            before my tottering rationale and reasonings
           are again able to catch up with me

         Without a net I glide ever higher
           without fear of ever again falling below
          for fall I shall and fall I shall soon
            as no bird or man can escape the dirt
           which commands thee and me to return home

         Plummeting is the only return left for me
           as I have been away too long to long retain
          the life of those bound to the ground
            solid and stoic yet not without its advantages
           such as never going beyond reaching safe returns

         So soar I shall in my final few days
           forever reaching after what is and isn't there
          in the mists of clouds of mystery and wonder
            rolling over the world that was never really mine
           as seen from above in bewilderment and awe


                    The Imposter

 Deftly weaving fact with fiction,
   the charlatan spins a myth to life
  filling the need for fools to be fooled
    enthralling those who long for mystique
   with a tale more vivid than truth itself

 Pulling the many away from light of day
   he entertains them in his twilight world
  where shadows and that which casts them meet,
    where one can forever take with none being taken,
   and fortune and fate await the unfaithful

 When sweeter yet comes the lies over bitter truths
   the deceiver himself becomes a sheep within the herd
  being swept along by tinder boxes of tarnished dreams
    beaconing to the many to cherish false hopes
   before plunging off the cliffs of denial at the obvious

 From the graves rise all the victims of self deception
   yet the soul of the imposter lies nowhere to be found,
  so artful was he at convincing all eyes they did not see
    with the vision needed to surmount the edges convolux
   that he saw not himself by them nor they he by any morsel of the truth


                Outgrown Innocence

     Damned are they who damn us thus
       wreaking havoc on our tranquil worlds
      destroying the lives and the minds
        of all those who cannot successfully oppose or accept them
       while making us who can and do accept them
         share the guilt of their bloody deeds

     Standing still,  looking the other way,
       busying ourselves with our lives and children,
      none of these things can absolve us
        of the perpetuation of injustice and brutal viciousness
       inherent in every facet of our 'peaceful' societies
         for each part makes possible each atrocity

     Survival but at what cost we wonder
       while each day learning how high that cost climbs
      for knowledge brings only more responsibilities
        to be shunned if we are to continue on and prosper
       in an ever more arid and poisonous environment
         killing all those whose lives possess real value


                    In My Prime

         I see myself in my minds eye
           in my youth stout and strong
             and in my prime
          too untamed and too untried
            not to think that all the world
              could be bent towards my will
            by my pride

         Wary now,  I seldom wander
           to find fulfillment of futile goals
             lying ever yonder
          yet in my heart and in my dreams
            I am still a fool eagerly awaiting
              opportunity to cast away my wisdom
            if sorrow it means

             Is ignorance bliss,  I wonder
           debating whether incremental time
             is some cosmic blunder
          for when age brings us acquiescence
            for lessening roles in lesser ambitions
              we still believe we are more and have more
            as we lose faith in our essence


                   To Wit

         Yea,  how the tables become turned
           by the clever ones deftly defying criticism
          for the abuses or misuses of their powers
            by exalting the common man who succeeded
           in helping others near or during their rein
             thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes
            and those who cannot see it are blind

         Shies,  the contemptuous praises be
           as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation
          to the very perpetrators whose life long wrongs
            they sought with their very lives to undue,
           fated to have the enemies of their passions
             eulogize to all their struggles and erst
            putting it in a perspective void of truth

         Better they be not to be named or known
           than to have their virtues so valiantly to be sung
          when hence the very meanings they bestow
            become tangled in minds by subversive retellings
           and having their chaste deeds done for good and all
             used to make good men doubt their own good will
            removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets


                  Aimed to Wander

            Be it poetic justice
          that they who give freely
             and ask for nothing should receive nothing
           enduring greater pains
          and paler pleasures

            Causes of dissention
          so rigorously demeaning of trust
             break the back of that which fosters them
           for meaningless is he who rebels
          once all the tyrants lay dead

            Marks of virtue
          show not upon the brow
             of he who lies buried in his work
           for rare is that he is even to been seen
          and rarer still to be heard

            Dead is that man
          who loses himself so completely
             into his quests he leaves no space to compass
           what deeds may survive many a fortnight
          and attain relevancy


                     Plateau

   I stand in the same place in the same body
     with only a few memories added or lost
    and though nothing here is visibly different,
      nothing here to me looks at all the same

   A few opinions changed can change entire outlooks
     as mine is not what it was,  lest not what I remember it to be
    Values added and naive buffoonery lost convince me
      that what is lost has nothing over that which is gained
     as maturity carries with it ingrained superiority
       saving me from feeling now I am tomorrow's ignoramus

   Standing still yet in the midst of my life as it was
     drives home the fact that I see not with the same eyes
    nor shall simple pleasures and simpler notions of purpose
      again stall my timeless voyage into that elusive eternal beyond


                Never have I lived

 Never have I lived
   strange as that is to say
  yet never have I given myself
    completely over to circumstance
   and the happenings I endure detachedly
     in a somewhat off-handed abstract way

 I have cried
   and endure heartache immeasurable
  so to this misfortune I am indebted
    for giving me what little vissitudes of life have I
   but never would I dare romanticize this or life itself
     for if pain is all that is real then reality is duly overrated

 Can the unliving die
   or have they any way to know
  when it comes or how it is any different
    than bidding ones time waiting for its arrival
   not out of hope nor longing nor anger at the life
     which makes one curious enough to live and recompentant enough to die


               Temporarily Occupied

    In an unwashed somewhat opaque window
      a vacancy sign dangles as if anyone really cares
     for out on the windswept streets
       of this dusty dingy little town
      it was a might rare when anyone cared to stay awhile

    Yet even the most unlikely events will someday happen
      and one day one particular woman decided she needed
     one of those unwanted rooms
       which waited day after day in vain
      to serve any purpose other than taking up space gathering dust

    The immensity of Texas looms larger ever yet
      when viewed from a room only slightly bigger than closets
     and such was her sight
       as she awoke the very next day
      to find herself where so few had longed to be

    With an energy that seemed greatly out of place there
      she bounded through her morning routine zestfully
     eager to broach upon a new life
       in a town more comfortable with slow death
      languishing in the loss of industry,  its youth,  and interest

    Though the spirit of the town was gravely ill
      this deterred that young woman not one single bit
     as she made haste to find the saloon
       and declare to the owner its stark void
      of a singer as beautiful and talented as she said of she

    Having had her perform and seeing nothing new
      he declined her offer with another one of his own,
     that of waiting on tables
       paying barely minimum wage
      plus a percentage of her tips less what he kept himself

    In too mean a disposition to refute his offer entirely
      she accepted given the chance she could one day perform
     before what here passed for a crowd
       in a corner saloon where no one came
      except when passing through save they who called it home

    The regulars at that place were anything but
      as each seemed a character frozen from another time
     as a partial list included the likes
       of an aged gangster from prohibition,
      a box toting peddler of old, and a gypsy complete with ball

    It was there the young siren came to be day to day
      serving drinks to those who often wished to be elsewhere,
     she included though on this fact
       she knew better than to let her mind dwell
      while doing her best to do what little was expected of her

    On a busy night comprised of all of fifteen people
      the owner gave her the chance to perform her songs
     from a slightly out of tune piano
       there for the occasional drunkard
      to bang out a few poorly sung half-forgotten drinking songs

    With a voice too fine for such a rough crowd
      as the rowdies who dominate the place every Saturday night,
     the lilting melody of true harmony
       was drowned out by cat calls and jests
      which shook the very core of her unflinching fortitude

    With her spirit dimmed as bleak as her surroundings
      she cried her heart out in that tiny lifeless hotel room
     lit momentarily by the vigor of youth
       driven to pursue necessary dreams,
      hoping to rise above those personal straits surrounding them

    Again empty the next day, the room was cleaned
      now ready to begin that long wait for a tenant
     to seek what little recompense
       that such a barren room has to offer
      set in the middle of whatever circumstances one finds oneself


                     Regrets

      Looking back you say  'Hey,
        things might have gone another way',
       but could they or should they you wonder aloud
         none to proud of having allowed the tragedy you see
        by hiding or siding with those whose clothes
          tell all that anyone needs to hear

      Listening still until the thrill becomes a chill
        you know that unless success is vested upon the best
       this world has not any pearls to twirl
         nor any freedom to hold

      Holding yet to your regrets
        you forget your mind finds only the times
       you failed under the pale light of day
         to say what of then only to beget again
        those sorrows which you so justly feel

      Giving way to the tide of lost pride
        to yourself you confide that nothing can hide
       your shame now aflame too tempting to tame
         yet through your blaze's haze you now gaze upon
        that dawn of knowing and growing while unknowingly sowing
          those seeds beneath your feet upon which you shall reap
         that heap of goodness remorse brings to life


                   Now is the time

        Now is the time which threatens us all,
          threatens to destroy the spirit within Man's soul,
         poisoned by the raw bestiality unleashed
           dished out to mankind and dished out by mankind
          for despite all that we have and have done
            we have not yet risen above indiscriminate vengeance
           wrought because we suffer greater still yet
             and only seemed destined to suffer ever more

        Lest we see all hope lain bare
          what reason have we not to pray the worst,
         not to wish that this vicious vile end nearing
           bests the eternal war without and within us
          for no victory or loss can ever vanquish
            our heartfelt desire to at last enjoy peace
           grating sorely against the coarseness
             of our predestined battles against our own nature

        In the depths of our fears and angers
          where the dank acrid air suffocates all joy,
         may we pause to feel deep within our bones
           that though life may no longer be worth living
          we live still yet and still yet we dare
            proclaim to the universe that we know better
           how life should be and how good we can be
             if ever again we regain the means to make it so


                   What was then

    Looking back on life
      who'd have ever thought
     that I would be to say
       what it was if I am not
      now that the fullest sense of me
        exists not or in some other way

    Was it really real
      I feel I cannot know
     if I am to be what I've become
       and master this new means to grow
      as unfamiliar to me as I to myself
        wondering if my past and future can live as one

    Can meaning exist without facts
      for those facts upon which I have relied
     to tell me what and who I've been
       exist not to me now if ever they lived and died
      and if they never lived at all,  then neither did I
        yet somehow I am and maybe though not in me,  in someone them


               Contemplating Freedom

     Wondering where wistfulness went
       my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves
      to a time when I thought not of myself
        before doing and maybe,  before being
       letting not preconception deny experience

     Why is it now inconceivable to me
       to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars,
      to run gaily through the fields rolling with life
        and not think myself an ass for loving life
       so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun

     Where what becomes what for and why not why
       is where who I have come to be has since lost me
      in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see
        the boy inside the man,  the girl behind the woman,
       loving what little spontaneity we're still graciously allowed

     The constraints are mine to have or have not
       and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold,
      to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing
        whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd
       yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us
         only now sorrow has replaced the joy









                    Part 2


                    Waiting

       Waiting for the perfect moment
        when all of the stars align
         and rapture lies only just behind
          that moment creeping up slowly
           from the soul up into the mind

       Waiting while thousands pass
        before you though you are blind
         seeing only what is yet to come,
          seeing only that some-other time
           which you might never live to find

       Waiting while wondering why
        you wait to live but not to die
         leaving all of the living left behind
          walking through today seeing only tomorrow
           with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes

       Waiting without even knowing
        or knowing but not caring,  you die
         each day a thousand deaths,  a thousand lies
          for perfection lay in each hour,  each minute
           with only your conception of it to give it its disguise


                Distance Closes In

Distance closes in
  and horizons once seemingly endless
 become known, and being known, uninteresting
   as the playpen to the room,
  the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum

The planet, being known
  thus becomes to small to frame us
 so we search out new limits to our view
   and overlook the unknowns at home
  in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves

Infinity itself collapses
  under the weight of impressive stares
 as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give
   and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug
  and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more

Seeking to know
  yet with knowing, eventually disappointed
 wondering why at all it is ever so important to know
   though we know without need to learn
  with truth we may still live in a cage, a playpen, but it becomes our own


                   Waking

         Wherever went the mystery
           upon waking each new day
          enthralled by want and wonder
            and fear and apprehension
           moved to tears,  then to bliss,  then back again
             as if each were one and the same

         Clutching at the past for clues
           as to what might go wrong or right today,
          daring to court disappointment,
            hoping against hope to hope yet again
           for who or what is to say what is hopeless
             when life itself is begun in dreams

         Again alive the umpteenth thousandth time
           you always wake to familiar surroundings
          and even strangers hold fewer surprises,
            not daring life for you know life too well,
           holding fast to the civilist of paths
             and leaving the wilderness to the wood

         Yet life is not to be bargained with or upon
           and false securities inevitably shatter
          for the dangerousness, the uncertainty must prevail
            for only they hold claim upon tomorrow's tomorrow
           and with them whatever blessings go
             for us to know would be to rob our dreams


                 Ever unexpectedly, joy

            Without the fire in the belly,
          the gleam in the eye,
             the pensiveness of the mind
           driving me ever to new heights
           I revel in the quietude
            seeking to master the sublime

            Ever unexpectedly,  joy
          without cause or
             without reason for celebration
           comes crashing through the door
          seeking to reinsinuate itself
            as its own instigation

            Ambition,  easily confused
          upon seeing the changing wind
             seeks to shy away,  to fade to the rear
           sensing confrontation with elation too risky
          for want is to contentment
            too truly its greatest fear


                    Time again

          Never is ever ever enough
            for life itself is in the extreme
           surpassing itself time and time again
             for that it is
            and for that must it always be
          as this or that comes to rule
             each moment becoming that time
           while chaos itself reigns supreme
           for all that may no matter what,  no matter when
            must bow to this

          Time becomes time again
            defining itself anew each resurgent light
           as all of creation falls down to this
             until it was
            and then never again would it,  could it be
          paved over by insatiable lust for life
             driving those others over that which drove it
           seeking to become that moment,  become that life
           which by turns gives life and feeds off of it
            living by giving what does


                    In Ignorance

       In ignorance I look to the sky
         sensing some higher order,  some higher mind
        as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by
          enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind
         for place untold cannot bind

       In ignorance I live each day without fear
         oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere
        in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near
          for life and death and consequence we each share
         needing to be needing,  being to dare

       So to life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts
         so cold and unchanging written in black upon black
        for living is standing with the truth to our backs
          facing the yet-to-be true,  the ever changing track
         surmounting the known with each little act

       Thinking meaning existed then,  or when,  or ever
         we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind
        yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never
          is to accept ignorance as a fact,  a mean state of mind
         knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time


                   My Country

Hail to thee,  my country
  Born as Athens,  then again as Rome
 never a nobler conqueror this world has known
   engaging and enslaving others by ideals alone
  hoping they may be as free as we may be

May our God be as forgiving of we
  all too often led by our power gone astray
 yet bold we must be for it is only our way
   and only courageous assurance will rule this day
  and make destiny bow to thee

Should all men be living free
  may our many errors in their true light be shown
 and be judged by those whose responsibilities for themselves match our own
   for what we did,  right or wrong,  by it they will have grown
  enough to see how better it should be


                   Askance Anew

            Given in to taking,
          demanding what is not offered,
             for what in life will life give
           to he who is not prepared to receive,
          not ready to turn over every stone,
            called forth by what fates might await
           those who never will to settle

            Receiving all that satisfies
          serves only to whet ones appetite anew
             for tastes as yet untried,
           gains as yet ungarnered,
          by those who long only to do
            and by doing to be that which does,
           having in using,  gaining by spending

            Taken in again
          by the sorted thrill of the chase
             to gain that which mystifies
           before its novel facade fades
          showing forth again what is true,
            what is common,  what is ever appealing,
           what is why we need and what


                 How Tastes Truth

          How tastes truth,
            sweet or sour,  bitter or bucolic,
           so sayst he,  so sayst thee,
             but how sayst me

          'Tis which truths
            as well as which to whom
           and when to whom which
             which whethers tastes

          What asketh truth,
            acknowledgment or actions,
           understandings of underachievements
             or nothing save simply saying 'What hey,'
            when passing before passing away


                    Every Word

          Every word in every book
           ever today or ever any other day
            merely is another way to say
             I am, we do, they were and will
              and until we are not we shall
               and we will know what we do
                and we will remember what was done
                 and sometimes venture some reasons why


                     Tomorrow

        Tomorrow I shall awake
          to the dawn of a brand new day
         unseen,  unknown to any who live today
          and think and dream and believe
         that they know what with it will come or may
          as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way
         and dare embrace,  to touch,  to taste
          in haste that which casts today away
         for the sake of forsaking this day that stays
          too long making me gaze longingly toward unseen days
         and praise that which may bring only greater pains,
          to chance to lose,  yes,  but to chance to gain,
            twice but chance to lose more of the same


                     The Sun

         Beneath the sun I live
           and by it I mark my way
          measuring all my troubles to it,
            yet coming no closer nor further away

         It is to me what it is to you
           and is to all what frames their day
          ever unnoticed,  ever singularly static,
            as we beneath it change as we may

         To have,  to hold,  to see,
           to live,  to run,  and to play,
          to all we have done and will do,
            to all who will come,  to all who've passed away,
           to this sun,  to this one light of day
             we owe one singularly solitary praise
            for though far below to different gods we may pray
          we gain and lose all by this orb of infinite days


                Where within deceit

    Where within deceit lies profit,
      over those few in whom trust is not yet dead,
     over they who admit injury to claim understandings
       false they may be,  yet to them they are beholden
      to follow,  to love,  to live all but in vain
        losing not mere money nor pride nor innocence
       but being verily robbed of life,  of the right to believe
         and give freely of oneself without compunction or regret,
        who then can profit from this,
          from this theft who can draw breath,
         who can drink,  who can feed,  whose greed could this appease
           for what by wanting could having be more hollow









                    Part 3


                Falling through time

               Falling through time
                 I pause to lose myself
                deep within my mind
                 as each moment
                fades into a blur
                 of what was and is
                and things which never were
                 yet may be
                if their voices are heard
                 as they clamor to me
                to heed their call
                 to make their maybe worlds real
                if they can be at all


                  Distant Shores

             As I look to the open sea
           I wonder what might await me
          if I could force open fate's doors
            and find myself on distant shores

             I fancy I might soon set sail
           away from my earthbound jail
          toward a place where I can be free
            and shun all the chains of duty

             I would find a land of paradise
           free from all malice and vice
          where every action comes from love,
            truly a model for any heaven above

             Soon though,  I must turn away
           and return to the toils of my day
          but I hope someday someone will find
            that such a place lies not just in my mind


                     Vestabur

     Of all the great legends
       which ever were
      no name rings truer
        than that of the mighty Vestabur
       who gave all for nothing
         chasing humanity's forgotten cure

     In the land of Vikings
       during the most violent of ancient days
      this strongest of warriors wept
        for man's seemingly eternal malaise
       which pitted man against man
         and goodness against stronger selfish ways

     Finding none who were worthy
       of his inestimable prowess of force
      he then sailed off alone
        letting fate decide his course
       driven by a sense of uneasiness
         and determined to find its source

     For fourteen lonely days
       and fifteen turbulent nights
      no glimpse of sunlight broke the clouds
        and no sign of land reached his sights
       until at last upon that final day
         he saw mountains of astonishing heights

     The mountains reached right to the sea
       barren of any form of living thing,
      so empty and gray and desolate
        no comfort did its appearance bring
       with such an endlessly imposing facade
         that even the sea birds no longer did sing

     Hungry and weary from his journey,
       Vestabur hastened to go ashore
      but little respite did he receive
        as his hands became bloodied and sore
       in trying to climb those rugged cliffs
         which appeared to go on forever more

     After what seemed an eternity,
       he reached the top of a peak
      only to be confronted
        by a winged creature that could speak
       which had hovered before him
         and asked him what he seeked

     A dragon some would call it
       though dragons were not so small
      for this scaly quite ugly sprite
        stood no more than three feet tall
       and because of its tiny wings,
         one wondered how it flew at all

     Vestabur thought for a bit
       and then said, "To end my pain
      for I am tired,  cold,  and hungry
        and am quickly becoming lame
       as I have traveled long and hard
         only to find nothing gained."

     After a long pause of suspicion
       the creature looked wary and replied,
      "A bed and shelter and food,
        these things I can easily provide
       but surely thou travels not for these
         for everywhere these comforts reside."

     The warrior let out a thunderous laugh
       and said, "Thou art a wise sprite
      for seeing deeper than I might wish
        but thou art most certainly right
       in that I seek relief of a deeper pain
         than one can name or hold in sight."

     He continued, "If thou wouldst comfort me
       with the provisions that thou didst say
      I would be in thy gravest debt
        and shall be most eager to repay
       by naming my pain as yet untold
         if it pleaseth thee for me to say."

     It was early the following morning
       when Vestabur awoke invigorated and refreshed
      that he told the sprite his woeful tale
        of how the worst in Man destroyed the best
       and it was then that he heard the prolific words
         which would set him upon his greatest quest

     The creature spoke in a low solemn tone,
       "Thy vision is true and thy heart is pure
      for there is a plague of greed upon the land
        by which Man is poisoned and cannot long endure
       but all hope has not yet been lost
         for there is a place which covets the cure."

     "Devils be damned and heavens praised,"
       Vestabur abruptly and joyfully exclaimed,
      "A thousand blessings be upon thee
        if thou wouldst only speak the name
       of that place which has come to possess
         such an auspicious claim to fame."

     "Mubarakk," the winged creature said
       as it began to fly out of his sight,
      "Sail in the direction of the setting sun
        for a hundred days and nights,
       turn back for no one and nothing
         and never give into your fright."

     Slowly Vestabur made his way down
       the dangerous steep mountain's edge
      working his way away from the house
        that the creature had built upon a ledge
       with his mind dwelling upon the words
         the strange creature had last said

     The fury of the seven seas
       hath no fury like that of a man possessed
      to achieve that one goal or reward
        that he knows in his heart to be the best,
       not for himself but for his whole world
         and Vestabur was driven by nothing less

     Through the harshest of storms he sailed
       unrelentingly plodding on toward some place
      where he knew he would be gravely taxed
        in a test which could affect his whole race
       so he bore the worst the sea could give
         and he swore he would not act in haste

     During a rare moment of peace and calm
       he happened upon a lush tropical isle,
      a garden of endless sensual delights
        radiating a joy that could make the devil smile
       so it was here that he stopped for more supplies
         and a place where he could rest for awhile

     Words cannot describe the beauty of that place
       or of the friendliness people there had showed
      upon the storied stranger weak and frail
        half-starved and half-crazed by his chosen road
       to rid the world of its evil and its pains
         that some unseen demon or god ungraciously bestowed

     But here there was no hate or selfishness
       and the world he left behind seemed to fade away,
      just a nightmare that lingered in some twilight time
        forgotten but not leaving its importance betrayed
       as it clamored to him in his restless troubled sleep
         and its resolve in hope there too vice could be allayed

     And the love that had been denied to him before
       came to him in that wonderful enchanted place
      in the guise of beauty Mirimaney Kondessay
        who embodied the purest of virtue, love, and grace
       with the glimmer of a thousand stars within her eyes
         and a radiance as great as the sun within her face

     Here was contentedness and here was untold joy
       which he had never dreamt could be before
      yet deep within he knew he'd never see again
        for he knew that this place was merely a door
       to be passed through and left behind forever
         and that more pains of the past lay in store

     Though this hurt was far deeper than any others,
       Vestabur left quietly during one calm night
      again sailing toward the land of the setting sun
        cursing himself for being too weak to ignite
       courage enough to bid farewell his new bride
         and still be able to continue on with his plight

     Five weeks hence, his supplies again exhausted
       he found another island to look for food to eat
      but no land of paradise was this evil isle
        as death lay everywhere eager to meet
       this giant of a man who dared enter the domain
         of the Banu tribe with painted hands and feet

     In the shank of the evening the blood bath erupted
       as Vestabur awoke to them attacking him one by one
      yet each time he triumphed, another foe lay vanquished,
        and over a hundred lay dead before the dying was done
       when ten men rushed him cracking his skull
         for as the mighty Vestabur fell the battle was won

     When he awoke he found himself tied
       upon a yoke of precious metals lined with jewels
      in the hall of a gigantic luxurious marble palace
        among sculptures carved by the finest artisan's tools,
       displayed along beside them atop a high ledge
         being gawked at by a court filled with noble fools

     From his perch he could look down and see
       the story of the kingdom unfold beneath his eyes
      as the monarch sat upon a throne of the finest jade
        doling out the most incredulous of lies
       eagerly consumed by a nation taught only obedience
         caring not that they had no will to compromise

     Thrice daily he would be washed and fed
       serving no more purpose than that of a living statue
      declaring to all the power of the emperor
        which his bound and helpless state showed true
       yet only his body lay confined and constrained
         while his mind raced to uncover any opportunity cue

     For the first time in his victory filled life
       Vestabur was held prisoner like some animal in a cage
      removed from the freedoms he had always known
        and daily he held witness to his mounting rage
       at the atrocious abuses of power going on below
         which we affecting him more than he could ever gauge

     As he saw even mere children condemned to die
       for deeds done by their parents or other kin
      he vowed he would rid this world of this tyrant
        before resuming the task long ago did he begin
       believing nothing he could do could ever surpass
         this victory over viciousness which he had to win

     After the trials which always ended up executions,
       Emperor Kyrik would stand alone in this hall
      admiring his statues and opulent ornaments
        gloating over having the power of death over all
       and one day he spoke to Vestabur shackled high above,
         "Thy head from thy neck might as easily fall!"

     "Thou wouldst suffer far more than me
       for I knowst a place of untold treasure,"
      Vestabur answered,  "and beauty far greater
        than could give such a beast as thee pleasure
       for the wealth of this place surmounts all
         that thou has is this hall or could measure."

     "And all I must do to have this marvelous wealth
       is to set thee free I supposeth,"  the emperor said,
      "yet I be not the fool thou thinkst I am
        for only moments later I wouldst surely be dead
       though I thinkst thou speaketh the truth
         so I shall send out my armies to search instead."

     Moments later the emperor returned to the hall
       where Vestabur stood consumed by his flaming hate
      for the man who now predicted complete success
       in plundering all wealth as his armies would devastate
      all peoples weaker be they near or far away
        and as he said so Vestabur realized it was too late

     Suddenly he was struck with a vision
       of the island of boundless beauty and grace
      being raped of the riches it shone forth,
        the kindness and the love too strong to erase
       would doom them to be destroyed one and all
         as the vipers poisoned that wondrous place

     As the emperor laughed far below
       Vestabur saw him directly beneath the ledge
      and summoning all the strength left in him
        he tipped the stone stockade using his foot as a wedge
       tilting it forward inch by inch as his foot crushed
         until at last the stone and he tumbled over the edge

     He awoke upon a gallows before a crowd
       shouting curses at him for killing the emperor,
      no joy did they have for being set free
        as they began to stone the mighty Vestabur
       and the reasons why he craved that death
         were so tainted by this he could no longer remember

     "These fools shall never become free,"
       Vestabur thought as he prepared to die,
      "for they haveth no meaning or goals in life
        save for those given by some ruler up high
       and such as being as me wouldst never be
         forced or force others to live out such a lie."

     Bracing himself for the final yank nearing,
       he felt proud for having the chance to have been
      and he feared not death nor pain nor loss
        for he knew that this was not his true end
       because his quest was still not near resolution
         meaning he still would be though knowing not when

     He saw the coming events proceed in stills,
       like photographs or like cards taken out of deck,
      when the trapdoor fell and chaos ensued
        while the rope snapped close around his strong neck
       seeing lightening strike the crowd around him
         then seeing the whole scene fall to a distant speck

                 End of Part One

            Vestabur-  Conclusion (middle parts missing)

     How Vestabur had come to arrive there
       I doubt that anyone could truly say
      and where exactly there might have been
        could easily go unknown for a million more days
       so sadly I am left merely able to say
         that at long last Vestabur had found his way

     This isle was a perfect circle with a solitary peak
       which rose forth from the center and ended in a cloud
      but no joy came from his mighty heart as it raced
        with a ferocity such that he thought it echoed out loud
       and a solemn melancholy gripped his whole being
         fearing the cloud above was his eternal shroud

     Driven by forces too powerful to dare resist
       he laughed as he pondered his very first fear,
      that of reaching the end of his long troubled journey,
        not of failing but of the success now drawing near
       and that vague notion of a final resolution
         made him shake violently as its meaning became clear

     No more venturing would be should he succeed
       in ridding the world of all ails and ills
      as his meaning dissolved before the face of the resolve
        that drove him here and would carry him up that hill
       which cursed his success and dared him to leave
         while he still knew who he was,  knowing he could be still

     But fear could have no hold over him
       and he let the sensation run its course and go
      as he slowly made his way toward the town
        that his visions of forbearance quickly let him know
       would await him at the foot of that mount
         and would surprise him with an unexpected foe

     Pleasant were the people of this remote town
       eager to meet and greet this great stranger,
      so accommodating and polite,  he was so enthralled
        and taken aback by this kindness he saw no danger
       in dallying for a time to repay their generous hospitality
         when asked to stay awhile and tend to their manger

     Strange animals he found in that pristine barn
       where he came to work to tend their stout stock,
      healthy and boisterous and so uncannily attuned
        to service that he had but to think to command a flock,
       sheep which went daily to a meadow undistinguished
         but for an eerily glowing pile of mountain rocks

     There at dusk after a hard day's work
       atop the rocks he felt free as never before
      in command of his self and his destiny
        so much so that the future he dreaded lay in store
       now seemed amicable and even friendly to him
         smiling down on him because he dreaded it no more

     Day after day went past while he worked
       without notice of the time or the passing seasons
      that soon changed to years,  then many years
        but this seemed not to his goal to be of any treason
       for this was but a temporary stop on his journey
         and all must always be because of due reason

     Four and forty years passed before he noticed
       how those rocks that he sat upon for so long
      were to be found in every house and every meeting place,
        and how they glowed when the townsfolk would throng
       for some festive event which celebrated each new day
         as a new era never seeing how much that view was wrong

     Time made no mark upon this forgotten place
       as generation after generation came and passed
      without making any innovation or any new creations
        to distinguish one era from the next or truths from the mask
       tradition builds to preserve all views from before
         and strives to keep any questions from being asked

     This is in all lands but nowhere else was it so clear
       as here where there was no small task ever new
      nor any thought different than those of the day before
        for even as children learned and constantly grew
       there was no dividing lines nor any individual patterns
         setting them apart from each other in what they did or knew

     Individuals had no meaning to be found here
       as all worked to serve all others without thought
      for themselves or for the betterment of others
        who shared not their secluded seemingly ideal spot
       yet they did not know of the horrors that lay
         beyond their vision or of the wrongs elsewhere wrought

     Yet Vestabur found his gift of inner visions
       not to be strange nor did he find anyone astounded
      by his presence nor did they ask of where he came
        and when he spoke of the past,  they were not dumbfounded
       but would knowingly bow their head in acquiescence
         whereupon the sorrows of the outside world were sounded

     Longing to know just how much they knew
       Vestabur questioned his friend Baynu without respite
      until at last he admitted they all knew the truth
        of the world from which he had long left in flight
       and he too said the cure to all man's troubles
         lay at the top of the mountain forever in their sight

     Furious,  Vestabur lashed out in utter condemnation
       at the whole town knowingly just standing by
      doing nothing while evil lay everywhere hurting all
        while they did nothing to aid in its possible demise,
       instead languishing in the luxury of goodwill
         without the fortitude to make all of mankind so wise

     "But what of thou,"  Baynu said in a forgiving way
       "We cometh here by our forefathers searching like thee
      and it was here that the stones lastly didst them comfort
        letting them know from their demons they be free
       not having to purge themselves of others shortcomings and sins
         and giving them peace the world beyond wouldst not let be."

     Again rekindling the fire that led him here,
       he fled the town in a fit of unseemly haste
      violently clawing his way up that mountainside
        not allowing himself chance to rethink out of fear he'd waste
       this one last chance to gain what he had come for,
         to rid life of its bile and bitterness of taste

     He climbed until he could climb no more
       frozen by the winds chiding "Death is at hand,"
      and there he most surely would have died
        had it not been for the kindness of a man
       who had made his camp near the top long ago
         in the mists of a cloud high above the land

     Small he was though he did not look frail
       and his temperament was decidedly meek
      yet Vestabur felt humbled and quite afraid
        of this man who many might think to be weak
       for the fire in his eyes and the weight of his words
         left the giant too afraid to dare speak

     Though this man did his best to reassure him,
       Vestabur could not come to feel at ease here
      for always was he the most powerful one
        yet this tiny man somehow made him to fear
       even though he knew this man meant him no harm
         making him ever more uncomfortable when he came near

     After a time he found the courage to speak
       his irrational fear to this gentle little man
      and he found himself being able to clearly express
        notions that he did not even fully understand
       while saying to this compassionate patron of help
         how he feared himself no longer in command

     The look on this stranger's face released him
       from the fear that he felt within his heart
      for Vestabur understood that this man knew
        his fears and his need to feel apart,
       to be bigger and better than all the rest
         and how he had need for them all in his heart

     "That thou wishst to serve thy people
       is honorable is didst bring thou to me
      here on thy mountain today,"  the man said,
        "as my wish to serve my people faithfully
       hast brought me here to await thee
         and help thou learn what it is thou seeks."

     Vestabur relayed his entire life's history
       to this stranger upon a cliff high in the air
      telling him of his joys and his loves lost
        and how the whole world seemed in deep despair
       hoping that when he ended his tales of the past
         he might be told if his future lay there

     Instead the man said nothing at all
       of what Vestabur ought next to wish to do
      as he motioned toward the top of the peak
        saying, "The end is there to go if thou needst to
       but what thou may find is within thee now
         and will still be there when thy journey is through."

     With great trepidations,  Vestabur went outside
       to gaze at the peak barely visible in the pall
      seeming so near that he could be there now
        without needing to have to go there at all
       and without realizing it he was doing so,
         climbing as if answering some inner call

     Then it happened as the universe ended
       without Vestabur or the snowy mountain top
      because it all had come to an end long,  long ago
        before the beginning with no story now to stop
       for he realized all he had lived for could never be
         as his whole life fell like rain or a single teardrop

     Wanting for everyone to live in joy,
       knowing what it truly is like to live free
      was to him then and is to us in our time now
        forever to be more of a dream than a reality
       as it can never be that for any who are free
         not to be able and therefore not to do,  us misery





              Other poetry books by Jared P. DuBois


                   The Versatile Verse

                    repetition

                    Triumvirum

                    Quadranine

                         pentacle
                    (mini-book)


                   and Montage,

             a collection taken from all above