The Goatherd's Crooked Staff

Tuesday Lobsang Rampa made tea so his Third Eye could open to see dreams fortifying in aspiring hearts as they reach for the next beat in their comings and goings Socrates played the lyre by banging on the strings while humming and hawing about the trouble of always stressing and straining against the chains though he loved Phaedrus in the Symposium it was Xanthippe that made him a muse Hermann Hesse spoke in tongues while translating the synapses of a goatherd who arranged new ideas like glass beads which almost always came undone except when Siddartha played the lute in exchange for his crooked staff Nietzsche saw the cunning linguist would never solve the puzzle of the dead body which Zarathustra carried to his bed like a wolf where he lay dying of syphilis wrapped in the wool of many sleeping sheep Sibelius finally gave in to the seduction of despair when for many restless nights he looked up at the stars in the same Elysian fields where the goatherd lay asleep dreaming