The doors shall open for those who dare knock,
Though they blew down the house that was built on a rock.
The rubble was brought to the old sleeping king,
But the lock is the key and to look is to see.
Through the smoke and the silk he picked through the pieces,
And threw to the sea the ones with no reason.
He said to his son, "Make the foundation strong,
But remember that nothing lasts for too long.
Use only the finest of practical things,
And never forget the joys money will bring.
A man is worth only the family he has,
And his family is only worth household and land."
Down by the vines that grew by the road
Walked the king's son 11 years older.
He sang to himself, so that no one else heard.
His song was obscure and his mood was absurd.
He came upon a homeless old dog
That slept by the road when the sun was too hot.
He looked at the mutt and said with a smile,
"I built a foundation of stone and guile.
The walls of my castle were marble and steel,
And I built them up high so I couldn't feel
The sting of the wind coming in from the shore,
Or hear the foul cries of the sick and the poor.
But look at me now, compassionate father,
I sleep under trees with my home underwater.
Tell me your thoughts, compassionate ghost,
On my memory of you as a prisoner's host.
I've found my songs and the road to my grin.
Although it's a road that will lead to an end.
As you once said, 'nothing lasts for too long,'
I'll follow the vines until they are gone." |
Submission Name: Debauchery of Personal Kabbalism through Song
