Lonely Song Publishing - Writings

III. (The Smiling Guide)

Is it true what they say?

Are you a ghost?

Are you a slave?

Are your veins ensheathed in cloudy ice?

“Oh, no, no!

This is my home

I was once inside your shoes

I was once a foolish child

But now with mastery of form

I proceed unharmed and warm”

But warmth in full?

In speech and face

In subtle touch

One feels it but – what of the heart? What of the soul?

“Of the soul?

Oh yes, in full

I am warmed in all, in full

I have learned the proper way

The way is here, my friend, I promise

My path to now has been the strongest”

And truly think you this?

No question

Or hesitance

Ever marks your placid brow?

“It could be true

It once was true

I used to wander late at night

Scattered in uncertainty

But here my mind with truth enfolded

Heart and soul were gently molded

I can give you all my word

For I am now free as a bird

As such I’ve read, or so been told

Or seen in some art-form of old”

But what of the wild plain

The dark wood

The burning sun?

Even now you cringe in the light of the window!

“The light, the light

The outer light?

I don’t…

I mean…

Ah yes…

But no…

It is not what you think

“Our light in here

Is much more clear

than that of cloudy outside dreaming

I need not those foolish charms

Put point to point, in here is better

This I claim, and to the letter

“Now pray do not continue asking

Things so fully unalarming

I am equipped to take your tasking

Words so sharp yet so unharming

Have a little better manner

If you hope to hold our banner!”

So round the halls and through the rooms you sweep

A smiling guide, an anxious hopeful son

Through gliding doors

Over spotless white tiles

Up the stone-stepped stair

Past the humming piercing lights

Past the sparkling gleaming granite statue

Of Old J-----, the local conquering hero

A trailblazing fearless giver of most importance…

(But oh the dust and shadows of the back rooms!

What dark and lofty secrets do they hide?

What souls and speeches now vilified

Might have been heard, long, long ago

By the thin and humorless window-light

By the fading crusty leather volumes

Before their melancholy night?)

“…and that was Old J-----

What a hooligan

He was back in his stodgy day!

We owe him all, or so I say –

Do you listen not today?” your smiling guide inquires.

“Never mind - this is your time

Follow me on up the tower

Come and see the honest power

Of all we are and want to be

Look through me, I’m not ashamed

Of what you see, of what I am

And soon you’ll know the cause!”

Part 4