A Pastoral

Some gilded governesses, under the influence of a bored Jinn,
Hypnotized some fabled Trojan mares with honeyed whispers,
Such devious rhetoric that comes no less from mischievous gods!
As the stable warden screamed into his hands,
They led the noble beasts through the muck and to the cliffs.
"What had they to prove?" he cried.
"What has anyone to prove?" I replied with a shrug.

I took leave of my distraught friend and wandered into to distant dells,
Then finally to the sacred Shepard Meadows,
Where I found those worthies herding their flocks and beasts of burden.
From a high vantage point beside an ancient pillar,
Intoxicated by pastoral clairvoyance and wild flower drugs
I watched the clouds and lost myself in sweet reveries,
Beguiling the time with the wild bliss of my whimsical imaginings.

"Be free," some strange voice suddenly urged within me.
"Unyoke thyself and be lost forever in your wild imaginings, away from this vile world!"
In another moment I might have indeed lost myself forever in my daydreaming
Had I not been stirred by the clamoring of the Shepard's below.
The old scavengers were boisterously questioning a newcomer likewise dressed in Shepard's garb,
And they seemed to be conducting an interview of sorts,
Insofar as their grave dignity and mild wisdom allowed for such things.

I watched them for some time stroking my beard in idle amusement
When a feeling of ominous foreboding pierced me like an arrow.
Wretched fellow to inspire such woe!
It came from that specious journeyman newcomer
Whose advent seemed to suck the very blue out of the azure sky!
But then on some reflection and doubt I thought I could be going mad
And let the matter pass with a careless shrug into soothing sleep.

Upon waking my glassy eyes drifted about the landscape below,
And oh, the horror,--all slaughtered!
A red cornucopia of blood spattered the once placid meadow,
Its Shepard's bodies splayed out in rosy heaps of fresh death.
And where was the murderous rogue that was responsible?
Fled! along with the sprightly flocks that he stole,
Headed to the market perhaps, or some profit barge of few questions.

I felt what could be remorse or simply disgust;
For was it not also my fault in some passive way?
With the deed done it hardly mattered now.
Still I could scarcely feel at peace with myself,
Even with a new day ahead and fresh adventures to drink of.
"Ugly remorse!" I cursed.
From my hilltop I ascended into the valley below and left this murky scene.

Forward to the beat of new drums!
I had hoped the winds would cleanse me
Or at least carry me to sunnier climes;
Instead it blew me to a dark wood, where I rested against a twisted oak.
A sigh, and at my feet I beheld a legion of ants tearing a song bird to pieces,
An apt metaphor for the furies of life!
My head hung darkly in tragic brooding.

Such weakness little became me!
Even facts are worthless if they only serve to condemn.
To seek my inspiration, I left another fallen friend behind and headed to the nearest waterfall.
Only near ardent torrents and jagged rocks could I court my muse.
For many days just shy of the falls I sat in patient longing,
My mind swelling in fevered anticipation of enlightenment
With not but raucous sounds of nature to guide me.

When at last, I felt as though a Hydra had blown a typhoon into my ears
I dove from the lofty cliff and thrust into the surging current,
Trusting only to the savage waters of the river to deliver me to Hades or Paradise!
And again that strange voice of freedom rang through me with a wordless stentorian call to arms,
Kindling my ecstatic wonder as I floated further into distant lands,
Until at last I found calm waters in the sea of my unearthly soul.