A Country Park, My King
“Life is like a country park”, the peasant said to the King.
The King so sure of his profound answer,
Looked coldly into the peasants eyes
and without a murmur burst out into laughter,
Tell me peasant why would that be
Be this another story of the birds and the bees?
Should we admire the setting sun
Whilst hounds and foxes fight?
Or should we watch the morning birds
As they take their dewy flight?
Should we tred with caution
so to step over the badger’s mess?
We wouldn’t want to disturb the forest,
While for her slumber she does undress.
“How shallow of you my King, be but you a jester?
It’s all about the way we live,
and the way we’re taught to fester.
We walk the paths where others tred
Only because of the lessons we are force fed,
They’re cut and trimmed to look inviting
And drags us to the path when we start fighting
The structured lanes of the labyrinths
Mask the ever-present hidden depths,
With only one way in and one way out,
Of which at the end there is only death.
“I wonder king do ever contemplate,
How our civilisation has structured fate?
You scoff with fear at my fairy-tale ramblings
But when did the ramble lose its wanderings?
Some of these follies are over grown
To draw in those of us that want to roam,
But even those are thoughtfully constructed
To keep us from the freedom they’ve obstructed,
The once wild flowers do with our hearts arouse
And then trap us in with their illusional boughs.
“Tell me master, though you believe you are wise,
What is in the thicket, the bramble of lies?
Be there a place beyond this realised bush?
Is there another place where does sing the thrush?
A field where human hands have not touched
Or perhaps a tree where our safety has not been crutched,
A nest where the bluebird sits out of place
Or a mudded mound where the mole will show its face.
I do not ask you for forgiveness nor do I ask it of the world,
For down the rabbit hole I have finally been hurled.
“Yes, today I took a walk my King against the beaten track
And the splendours I found along my way do certainly do
not lack. The forest was not meant for the rules we
force upon it or the lies in which we trap the animals. No.
Instead my foolish jester, it should be full all the things that I dream whilst in my bed. And whilst there are those things that we all do dread, the nature will
look after you. For the forest will give you what you need,
my staged laughter, and exactly when you need it.
If only you and the others would be brave enough to see it.
Copyright © Charlotte Boyle | Year Posted 2018