Here, the man went inward and wise, reluctant teacher, about to enter light .The leaves about him had a faint aura not a pall of dust but of wisdom’s light, the why of all including our nothing- we who had liquid origins and trauma.
He had an answer to all our questions but no questions to our lucent answers .His ears were long and unhearing as were his eyes small and crinkly.
It was not he who patted his tummy and laughed to the vulgar crowds loud , just a yellow figurine on our dusty shelves. Did you say he had frozen in bronze with an enormous stomach side-splitting? Actually our fears froze behind his ears .I can hear their crunch in these leaves.
How thought goes astray 