The Jester

watching himself from a distance

the jester and his majestic thoughts

dreaming of lordship

while caring for his own wounded soul

and he looked to his brother

his lovely counterpart

the wicked thicket of brotherhood

and stroked the twisted bark upon its limbs

chanting and carrying about

caressing the ancient decrepit oak

and in his wishful ritual he cried

"Dearest patriot, mine hands wish to sculpt

your fine grains of dust

wouldst thou pass on a part

of the past

so that I may begin

to give you new form

and pleasant days

of even more wondrous ways

and experiences?"

And in his last days of fellowship

brother gave away his only child

and bled a block of wood

from his wisest limb.

And the jester climbed upon his brother

to his highest throne

and delicately chipped away

carving his crown of livelihood

and when the wood shavings

were swept away with each season

and his pointed crown

sat prominently above his brow

he kissed his brother farewell

and began his journey

toward the kingdom of his thoughts

and all the while

feeling this immortal child

he danced upon the edge of nature.