A Song for the Fragile

A Song for the Fragile

 

I met a man who drank the stars before a dancing Irish hearth,

declaring that a hundred billion people,

more or less, must have lived and died upon this earth;

 

and no matter how high a church's steeple

or the fervour of its faithful far below,

their lives are eventually, universally and unfortunately lethal.

 

Warming to the craic he mused: “It must follow

that the only course of action worth a jot

is to play the solitary dreamer, be a Rousseau.

 

“In this way, he winked mysteriously, “we allot

our time not as imposed by ticking clocks,

but simply in our reveries, in dreams that time forgot.

 

“For liberation is the spur that urges, with bleeding hocks,

the wild, wild horses, timid or fragile though they be,

across the widest fen, towards the grace that only play unlocks.

 

“No fighting's assured, no Waterloo ensues; let your fear not be the key

that opens wide the maws of lions. Mere children at the end of days,

each must make their ways and means, under the fruit of the poison tree.”

 

Chris Hubbard

2018

◄ Winging It (Nullarbor Journey)

Buried in the Sunlight ►

Comments

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Chris Hubbard

Mon 5th Feb 2018 03:35

Hi Cynthia, You are too kind! I certainly enjoyed building the imagery here, and I'm pleased you liked the result.
I wrote it recently after hearing Sting's old song "Fragile" - and its line "How fragile we are ...."
Best,
Chris

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sun 4th Feb 2018 12:52

What a line: 'a man who drank the stars' and then 'before a dancing Irish hearth' . Seriously hoping the reader uses the same vowel sound for 'stars' and 'hearth'. IMO, a great idea expressed with superb imagery and craftsmanship.

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