Constellation Taurus Chapter One

An apologue of the man who balanced the wire

VII.

The acrobat

when the fire was young there were no stories to be told

for the world was naive and artless

a fluttering vision of future conflagration and warped truths

we rode on the back of the bull till ready

capering around the flaming stones

a single rivulet strode upon the young grass

every glistening body, a beacon of light, flushed, bellowing

fondled the ivory flesh till tremor gave birth to covet

the white plume of freedom had us taste

the naked avid, soft and quiet as the moil of creation

pendulous gold locks, threatened by the recondite will and whim

afraid that their own darkness precedes

battered innate greatness into dying ember

inscrutable, tear glazed faces bawled along in sweet agony

a dulcet melody some roaring thunder sang me once

a sonorous cry broke me

my bosom leaped outward, hatching an elusive plumage

the white dove of passion flapping and fleeing

implications kneaded my overripe soul into leanness

the organ is belling away, clock’s chimed late

the power moves in my fingers so I thrust

the stars that girth my creature of enigma

aldebaran, you red giant, spring is full of growing pains

you are at the birth canal, pushing to come out

now gaze farther than the horizon

out like a lion

in like a lamb

a diamond reposed on a bed of plum velvet

race against the sunset;

a man born from ruin

rose from the rubble and declared to make all right

find better glory in forecoming days

his figure grows more marvellous with the years

overshadowing wise ancestors and past deities

proclaim greatness a goal to achieve

and take mankind out of his bitterness

dying generations under his throne

consider, did he know

ambition makes a wise man mad

no ancient bridge or high tower

could save his blessed heart

from that unravelling tragedy

I have considered it

a fair conferring of his internal battlements

in the night, remembering the quake

inherits their pain and their despair

harried by the screams of those still burning in flesh

an inundation of his suffering at best

unhinged and swivel eyed

decrepit to some bearable point of declension

the flow of life grew scarce

all common things declared insufficient

seeing that no love and triumph were enough

to lift that terror from his eyelids

when he met death in the flesh

hare brained, fell under her multitude

trundled down the dirt road

and took upon some voyage to carry his excess;

the river meanders through the unrepining greenery

feast upon the rich platters of seasonal impermanence

you have the heaviest heart roving over the reeds

the world drops on stumbling feet;

a man ageing in neglect

shows a mantle of well furbished intellect

a monument of his travail

ambition consumed his heart in fire in the end

and he burned rather violently

bound to a life not for the faint hearted

understand that desire, running with my wild darling

our souls yearned for the flame

there was nothing to prevent

no one to save in the end

I myself witnessed the chaos

following the idea of a man mad

who knew not what wise men possessed

a magnificence of both

a raging tempest under his thumb

the halcyon within the storm

people for whom gold holds no allure

the fortress of tranquillity held no doors

an inkling for the amorphous thought

only recollections and impressions

aspirations arise and settle as dust

what a marvellous mess

he made out of all of us in the end

his love, drowned out of his mind

out of sight

strange that he knew

in her content he could find

but it was not enough

hearts betray

he found better joy in commend.

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