The Sage's Doubtful Escape Poem by Paul Kesler

PHILOSOPHER:
'I find the best way to gather no moss is to
examine the stones very carefully, making sure the
stream runs quickly around them.'

CHORUS:
'The grave shall always get its due -
it crouches underground;
you see the shadows thicken fast
but evening makes no sound.'


PHILOSOPHER:
'I eat my meals in silence, and the only sound I
hear is the clink of ice in the glass. It looks
like a granite stone.'


CHORUS:
'The daylight tracks you everywhere,
through cracked and battered floors;
you waver eastward, waver west,
but cannot find a door.'


PHILOSOPHER:
'I'm looking at the moon tonight because all the
lights have gone out. Tomorrow I'll see if the sun
still works.'


CHORUS:
'The skeletons crowd 'round your home,
they line up two-by-two;
you've given them a bone to munch,
but now they're after you.'


PHILOSOPHER:
'I know why solipsism is the crux of the human
problem. It gets one out of the running stream,
and away from the granite stones.'


CHORUS:
'Mirrors have their secret ways,
the past reflects tomorrow;
you slide somewhere between the days
abandoned to your sorrow.'


PHILOSOPHER:
'I have finally discovered the secret of life: it
lies in metempsychosis.'


CHORUS:
'Lives may come, and lives may go,
when gazing at the moon;
who knows where a life may flow
while bones watch from the gloom.'


PHILOSOPHER:
'Something's wrong. How did I get into this vault?
No matter. I will arrive at a state tomorrow where
the creatures can't find me. Then I can dream.'