Symposium

Jerome

     Sitting on a low granite platform with mosquitoes buzzing in my ears
and staring up at the silver-dollar moon and out across the softly
undulating waves of the lake,
     My new-found friend Wyle sitting beside me mumbling softly about noble
faiths, majestic beauties and annoying ants that keep biting his ankles,
     I lose my mind in the rustling reeds and screaming voice of the moon
which is calling down to
 me from its home in the heavens –
     My sanity slowly slipping away, the sudden urges to
stand up and shout at the persuasively taunting moon, to jump in the lake
and swim until my frail body gives out, to drown serenely with visions of
peace hope love patience honor joy beauty still fresh in my mind's eye,
     And the moon's low voice, like the rhythmic waves of the water,
reaches my ears – "you've lived too long and yet not long enough, you know
too much but nothing at worth hearing – you are the wisest of the fools,
the holiest of the damned" –
     Wyle sitting serenely, the moon's cruel taunts not reaching his ears
or at least not penetrating his thoughts, still he complains of the ants
and the mosquitoes and the stiff brown grass that scratches his arms as he
reclines on the bank of the waters,
     And in my mind I'm screaming now, shouting down the moon, breaking his
will in a staring contest that I am more than determined to win, calling
upon the stars for help, to stop their brother from his charmingly cynical
rants,
     The moon surrendered only when his sister the sun appeared and drove
him away with angry
chastisement and sharp words,
     So I thanked the sun and its golden glow and bid that world adieu and
returned to my room where I slept and dreamt and woke again, not knowing
whether I had lived that moment in the realm of dreams or reality.