The Fool -II

This is a poem spread across multiple pages. Please read in order.

The Fool - I.

For his impending doom may one blame his mom,
Who kept him sheltered, made him prone,
To view the world as a friendly place,
And hid him in an ivory case.
Raised in a forest calm and quiet,
No friends, no enemies whom to fight,
Only animals that were wild and gay,
Were friendly, harmless-but to prey,
No violence senseless or contrived,
No humans ever in his sight,
He set forth in his quest to find,
Were others like his mother kind?
The walk will bring him face to face
With the best and worst of the human race.

He’ll get to see the world is round,
If he keeps in mind this advice sound
That to get somewhere he has to move
His goal is clear, he has to prove
That aimless striving can also serve
To move him along a solid curve
That loops back and will end at start
In the process make him quick and smart
And hone his skills of knowing the world
Whether its flat , angled or slightly curved
And know for sure the men that make it
Their quirks, their flaws and how they fake it
But to know the world and men in kind,
He has to first make up his mind.


Should he just sit and ponder awhile
On the nature of that damsels’ smile
And what it means for him at large
Or should he move ahead and barge
Into the valley that’s sharp and steep
That gives two hoot to thinking deep
And is eager to devour him fast
Into a nothingness that wouldn’t last
As he is torn to a piece of flesh
And schooled adequately for his action rash
Of leaping before looking ahead
And putting himself in the red
And ignoring the one who loved him so
Not holding back- but letting go.


Of memories that could have served him well
And saved him form the impending hell
Of journey aimless and futile
Bereft of virtue or of vile
A striving for ones honors sake
And forgetting love that made it safe
To think about the quest firsthand
But his feet eager to leave the land
Have deafened to the damsels’ cries
Her pleads, her silence, her tender smiles
And jump from place to place to boot
Eager to find the million dolor loot
They want to take him to the grail
Pushing down the thought- what if he fail?

Would the damsel still be waiting for him?
Or would have moved as per her whim
With love that’s lost and memories that fade
A private cocoon- one can’t invade
Her private space once she’s left for good
One has missed the trees and also the wood
For a journey that’s so strewn with chance
Would it work for him – a happenstance?
Where he could find the Holy Grail
Or at least a loved one he could nail
That prize would make the quest worthwhile
And after the event make him smile
And reminisce about for what he stood-
Of what he has lost and what’s now for good