The Apparent Sincerity of Unchained Men
Misspent by inclination,
treed by ambition,
I fled the woods thirsting for the desert,
only to drown in a deep water ecstasy,
later to awaken in the vineyard,
free of fright, bound by the new day's light.
The unchained man bowed his head,
sincerity apparent, no deception transparent.
But the rock in my heart would not soften.
My suspicion would stay, no fears allayed.
This unblinkered seer,
this transcendental man,
had clean fingernails.
Draw your lines, number your principles,
look through me and ponder the stars.
Perhaps you do read future history.
In a world scrubbed white that coin may trade,
but you get no supper until I get paid.
The strange attractor left the table.
He blasted through the clover
and felled the shamrocks,
separating forever the last leprechauns in love.
Brutally, he balanced the books.
Now I see the unchained man's dream:
A land unfettered by growing things,
that sterile paradise where simplicity is king.
The numbers add up easily in a desert fantasy.
Convulsed with joy,
I close my eyes adrift at sea.
Copyright © Dick Tugwell | Year Posted 2022
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