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				   pentacle

			      By Jared P. DuBois

		     (c) Copyright 1990, 94 Jared P. DuBois


				   Contents

				   Part 1

      -  Starry-eyed and Boisterous    -  Plateau
      -  The Imposter                  -  Never have I lived
      -  Outgrown Innocence            -  Temporarily Occupied
      -  In My prime                   -  Regrets
      -  To Wit                        -  Now is the time
      -  Aimed to Wander               -  What was then
                                       -  Contemplating Freedom

				   Part 2

      -  Waiting                       -  My Country
      -  Distance Closes In            -  Askance Anew
      -  Waking                        -  How Tastes Truth
      -  Ever unexpectedly, joy        -  Every Word
      -  Time Again                    -  Tomorrow
      -  In Ignorance                  -  The Sun
                                       -  Where within deceit

				   Part 3

		         -Falling through time
		         -Distant Shores
		         -Vestabur (Short Version)









				    Part 1


			   Starry-eyed and Boisterous

	     Starry-eyed and boisterous
	       I soar higher than my imagination flies
	      eagerly meeting heavenly surprises
	        before my tottering rationale and reasonings
	       are again able to catch up with me

	     Without a net I glide ever higher
	       without fear of ever again falling below
	      for fall I shall and fall I shall soon
	        as no bird or man can escape the dirt
	       which commands thee and me to return home

	     Plummeting is the only return left for me
	       as I have been away too long to long retain
	      the life of those bound to the ground
	        solid and stoic yet not without its advantages
	       such as never going beyond reaching safe returns

	     So soar I shall in my final few days
	       forever reaching after what is and isn't there
	      in the mists of clouds of mystery and wonder
	        rolling over the world that was never really mine
	       as seen from above in bewilderment and awe


			        The Imposter

 Deftly weaving fact with fiction,
   the charlatan spins a myth to life
  filling the need for fools to be fooled
    enthralling those who long for mystique
   with a tale more vivid than truth itself

 Pulling the many away from light of day
   he entertains them in his twilight world
  where shadows and that which casts them meet,
    where one can forever take with none being taken,
   and fortune and fate await the unfaithful

 When sweeter yet comes the lies over bitter truths
   the deceiver himself becomes a sheep within the herd
  being swept along by tinder boxes of tarnished dreams
    beaconing to the many to cherish false hopes
   before plunging off the cliffs of denial at the obvious

 From the graves rise all the victims of self deception
   yet the soul of the imposter lies nowhere to be found,
  so artful was he at convincing all eyes they did not see
    with the vision needed to surmount the edges convolux
   that he saw not himself by them nor they he by any morsel of the truth


			    Outgrown Innocence

	 Damned are they who damn us thus
	   wreaking havoc on our tranquil worlds
	  destroying the lives and the minds
	    of all those who cannot successfully oppose or accept them
	   while making us who can and do accept them
	     share the guilt of their bloody deeds

	 Standing still,  looking the other way,
	   busying ourselves with our lives and children,
	  none of these things can absolve us
	    of the perpetuation of injustice and brutal viciousness
	   inherent in every facet of our 'peaceful' societies
	     for each part makes possible each atrocity

	 Survival but at what cost we wonder
	   while each day learning how high that cost climbs
	  for knowledge brings only more responsibilities
	    to be shunned if we are to continue on and prosper
	   in an ever more arid and poisonous environment
	     killing all those whose lives possess real value


			        In My Prime

		 I see myself in my minds eye
		   in my youth stout and strong
		     and in my prime
		  too untamed and too untried
		    not to think that all the world
		      could be bent towards my will
			by my pride

		 Wary now,  I seldom wander
		   to find fulfillment of futile goals
		     lying ever yonder
		  yet in my heart and in my dreams
		    I am still a fool eagerly awaiting
		      opportunity to cast away my wisdom
			if sorrow it means

	         Is ignorance bliss,  I wonder
		   debating whether incremental time
		     is some cosmic blunder
		  for when age brings us acquiescence
		    for lessening roles in lesser ambitions
		      we still believe we are more and have more
			as we lose faith in our essence


				   To Wit

	     Yea,  how the tables become turned
	       by the clever ones deftly defying criticism
	      for the abuses or misuses of their powers
	        by exalting the common man who succeeded
	       in helping others near or during their rein
	         thus 'proving' that goodness always flourishes
	        and those who cannot see it are blind

	     Shies,  the contemptuous praises be
	       as the praiseworthy are owed their acclamation
	      to the very perpetrators whose life long wrongs
	        they sought with their very lives to undue,
	       fated to have the enemies of their passions
	         eulogize to all their struggles and erst
	        putting it in a perspective void of truth

	     Better they be not to be named or known
	       than to have their virtues so valiantly to be sung
	      when hence the very meanings they bestow
	        become tangled in minds by subversive retellings
	       and having their chaste deeds done for good and all
	         used to make good men doubt their own good will
	        removing aspersions aimed at more obvious targets


			      Aimed to Wander

	        Be it poetic justice
		  that they who give freely
	         and ask for nothing should receive nothing
		   enduring greater pains
		  and paler pleasures

	        Causes of dissention
		  so rigorously demeaning of trust
	         break the back of that which fosters them
		   for meaningless is he who rebels
		  once all the tyrants lay dead

	        Marks of virtue
		  show not upon the brow
	         of he who lies buried in his work
		   for rare is that he is even to been seen
		  and rarer still to be heard

	        Dead is that man
		  who loses himself so completely
	         into his quests he leaves no space to compass
		   what deeds may survive many a fortnight
		  and attain relevancy


			         Plateau

   I stand in the same place in the same body
     with only a few memories added or lost
    and though nothing here is visibly different,
      nothing here to me looks at all the same

   A few opinions changed can change entire outlooks
     as mine is not what it was,  lest not what I remember it to be
    Values added and naive buffoonery lost convince me
      that what is lost has nothing over that which is gained
     as maturity carries with it ingrained superiority
       saving me from feeling now I am tomorrow's ignoramus

   Standing still yet in the midst of my life as it was
     drives home the fact that I see not with the same eyes
    nor shall simple pleasures and simpler notions of purpose
      again stall my timeless voyage into that elusive eternal beyond


			    Never have I lived

 Never have I lived
   strange as that is to say
  yet never have I given myself
    completely over to circumstance
   and the happenings I endure detachedly
     in a somewhat off-handed abstract way

 I have cried
   and endure heartache immeasurable
  so to this misfortune I am indebted
    for giving me what little vissitudes of life have I
   but never would I dare romanticize this or life itself
     for if pain is all that is real then reality is duly overrated

 Can the unliving die
   or have they any way to know
  when it comes or how it is any different
    than bidding ones time waiting for its arrival
   not out of hope nor longing nor anger at the life
     which makes one curious enough to live and recompentant enough to die


			   Temporarily Occupied

    In an unwashed somewhat opaque window
      a vacancy sign dangles as if anyone really cares
     for out on the windswept streets
       of this dusty dingy little town
      it was a might rare when anyone cared to stay awhile

    Yet even the most unlikely events will someday happen
      and one day one particular woman decided she needed
     one of those unwanted rooms
       which waited day after day in vain
      to serve any purpose other than taking up space gathering dust

    The immensity of Texas looms larger ever yet
      when viewed from a room only slightly bigger than closets
     and such was her sight
       as she awoke the very next day
      to find herself where so few had longed to be

    With an energy that seemed greatly out of place there
      she bounded through her morning routine zestfully
     eager to broach upon a new life
       in a town more comfortable with slow death
      languishing in the loss of industry,  its youth,  and interest

    Though the spirit of the town was gravely ill
      this deterred that young woman not one single bit
     as she made haste to find the saloon
       and declare to the owner its stark void
      of a singer as beautiful and talented as she said of she

    Having had her perform and seeing nothing new
      he declined her offer with another one of his own,
     that of waiting on tables
       paying barely minimum wage
      plus a percentage of her tips less what he kept himself

    In too mean a disposition to refute his offer entirely
      she accepted given the chance she could one day perform
     before what here passed for a crowd
       in a corner saloon where no one came
      except when passing through save they who called it home

    The regulars at that place were anything but
      as each seemed a character frozen from another time
     as a partial list included the likes
       of an aged gangster from prohibition,
      a box toting peddler of old, and a gypsy complete with ball

    It was there the young siren came to be day to day
      serving drinks to those who often wished to be elsewhere,
     she included though on this fact
       she knew better than to let her mind dwell
      while doing her best to do what little was expected of her

    On a busy night comprised of all of fifteen people
      the owner gave her the chance to perform her songs
     from a slightly out of tune piano
       there for the occasional drunkard
      to bang out a few poorly sung half-forgotten drinking songs

    With a voice too fine for such a rough crowd
      as the rowdies who dominate the place every Saturday night,
     the lilting melody of true harmony
       was drowned out by cat calls and jests
      which shook the very core of her unflinching fortitude

    With her spirit dimmed as bleak as her surroundings
      she cried her heart out in that tiny lifeless hotel room
     lit momentarily by the vigor of youth
       driven to pursue necessary dreams,
      hoping to rise above those personal straits surrounding them

    Again empty the next day, the room was cleaned
      now ready to begin that long wait for a tenant
     to seek what little recompense
       that such a barren room has to offer
      set in the middle of whatever circumstances one finds oneself


			         Regrets

	  Looking back you say  'Hey,
	    things might have gone another way',
	   but could they or should they you wonder aloud
	     none to proud of having allowed the tragedy you see
	    by hiding or siding with those whose clothes
	      tell all that anyone needs to hear

	  Listening still until the thrill becomes a chill
	    you know that unless success is vested upon the best
	   this world has not any pearls to twirl
	     nor any freedom to hold

	  Holding yet to your regrets
	    you forget your mind finds only the times
	   you failed under the pale light of day
	     to say what of then only to beget again
	    those sorrows which you so justly feel

	  Giving way to the tide of lost pride
	    to yourself you confide that nothing can hide
	   your shame now aflame too tempting to tame
	     yet through your blaze's haze you now gaze upon
	    that dawn of knowing and growing while unknowingly sowing
	      those seeds beneath your feet upon which you shall reap
	     that heap of goodness remorse brings to life


			       Now is the time

	    Now is the time which threatens us all,
	      threatens to destroy the spirit within Man's soul,
	     poisoned by the raw bestiality unleashed
	       dished out to mankind and dished out by mankind
	      for despite all that we have and have done
	        we have not yet risen above indiscriminate vengeance
	       wrought because we suffer greater still yet
	         and only seemed destined to suffer ever more

	    Lest we see all hope lain bare
	      what reason have we not to pray the worst,
	     not to wish that this vicious vile end nearing
	       bests the eternal war without and within us
	      for no victory or loss can ever vanquish
	        our heartfelt desire to at last enjoy peace
	       grating sorely against the coarseness
	         of our predestined battles against our own nature

	    In the depths of our fears and angers
	      where the dank acrid air suffocates all joy,
	     may we pause to feel deep within our bones
	       that though life may no longer be worth living
	      we live still yet and still yet we dare
	        proclaim to the universe that we know better
	       how life should be and how good we can be
	         if ever again we regain the means to make it so


			       What was then

    Looking back on life
      who'd have ever thought
     that I would be to say
       what it was if I am not
      now that the fullest sense of me
        exists not or in some other way

    Was it really real
      I feel I cannot know
     if I am to be what I've become
       and master this new means to grow
      as unfamiliar to me as I to myself
        wondering if my past and future can live as one

    Can meaning exist without facts
      for those facts upon which I have relied
     to tell me what and who I've been
       exist not to me now if ever they lived and died
      and if they never lived at all,  then neither did I
        yet somehow I am and maybe though not in me,  in someone them


			   Contemplating Freedom

     Wondering where wistfulness went
       my mind briefly yet sagaciously moves
      to a time when I thought not of myself
        before doing and maybe,  before being
       letting not preconception deny experience

     Why is it now inconceivable to me
       to stand naked on the roof beneath the stars,
      to run gaily through the fields rolling with life
        and not think myself an ass for loving life
       so much as to engage in harmless foolish fun

     Where what becomes what for and why not why
       is where who I have come to be has since lost me
      in the trees whose protective leaves let no one see
        the boy inside the man,  the girl behind the woman,
       loving what little spontaneity we're still graciously allowed

     The constraints are mine to have or have not
       and respect the invisible instigation to keep hold,
      to keep in check that urge to burst out laughing
        whenever we feel we've stepped into the absurd
       yet absurdity lies at the heart of all around us
         only now sorrow has replaced the joy









				    Part 2


			        Waiting

	   Waiting for the perfect moment
	    when all of the stars align
	     and rapture lies only just behind
	      that moment creeping up slowly
	       from the soul up into the mind

	   Waiting while thousands pass
	    before you though you are blind
	     seeing only what is yet to come,
	      seeing only that some-other time
	       which you might never live to find

	   Waiting while wondering why
	    you wait to live but not to die
	     leaving all of the living left behind
	      walking through today seeing only tomorrow
	       with yesterday's dreams still driving your eyes

	   Waiting without even knowing
	    or knowing but not caring,  you die
	     each day a thousand deaths,  a thousand lies
	      for perfection lay in each hour,  each minute
	       with only your conception of it to give it its disguise


			    Distance Closes In

Distance closes in
  and horizons once seemingly endless
 become known, and being known, uninteresting
   as the playpen to the room,
  the room to the yard, the yard to the street, ad infinitum

The planet, being known
  thus becomes to small to frame us
 so we search out new limits to our view
   and overlook the unknowns at home
  in our cities, our streets, in our peoples, and in ourselves

Infinity itself collapses
  under the weight of impressive stares
 as if to say what else can I do, what more can I give
   and we ourselves, not knowing, merely shrug
  and walk away saying we only thought there'd be more

Seeking to know
  yet with knowing, eventually disappointed
 wondering why at all it is ever so important to know
   though we know without need to learn
  with truth we may still live in a cage, a playpen, but it becomes our own


				   Waking

	     Wherever went the mystery
	       upon waking each new day
	      enthralled by want and wonder
	        and fear and apprehension
	       moved to tears,  then to bliss,  then back again
	         as if each were one and the same

	     Clutching at the past for clues
	       as to what might go wrong or right today,
	      daring to court disappointment,
	        hoping against hope to hope yet again
	       for who or what is to say what is hopeless
	         when life itself is begun in dreams

	     Again alive the umpteenth thousandth time
	       you always wake to familiar surroundings
	      and even strangers hold fewer surprises,
	        not daring life for you know life too well,
	       holding fast to the civilist of paths
	         and leaving the wilderness to the wood

	     Yet life is not to be bargained with or upon
	       and false securities inevitably shatter
	      for the dangerousness, the uncertainty must prevail
	        for only they hold claim upon tomorrow's tomorrow
	       and with them whatever blessings go
	         for us to know would be to rob our dreams


		  	   Ever unexpectedly, joy

	        Without the fire in the belly,
		  the gleam in the eye,
	         the pensiveness of the mind
		   driving me ever to new heights
	 	  I revel in the quietude
		    seeking to master the sublime

	        Ever unexpectedly,  joy
		  without cause or
	         without reason for celebration
		   comes crashing through the door
		  seeking to reinsinuate itself
		    as its own instigation

	        Ambition,  easily confused
		  upon seeing the changing wind
	         seeks to shy away,  to fade to the rear
		   sensing confrontation with elation too risky
		  for want is to contentment
		    too truly its greatest fear


			        Time again

	      Never is ever ever enough
	        for life itself is in the extreme
	       surpassing itself time and time again
	         for that it is
	        and for that must it always be
		  as this or that comes to rule
	         each moment becoming that time
		   while chaos itself reigns supreme
	 	  for all that may no matter what,  no matter when
		    must bow to this

	      Time becomes time again
	        defining itself anew each resurgent light
	       as all of creation falls down to this
	         until it was
	        and then never again would it,  could it be
		  paved over by insatiable lust for life
	         driving those others over that which drove it
		   seeking to become that moment,  become that life
	 	  which by turns gives life and feeds off of it
		    living by giving what does


			        In Ignorance

	   In ignorance I look to the sky
	     sensing some higher order,  some higher mind
	    as yet unknownst to me so I pass it by
	      enjoying peace and pleasure and like in kind
	     for place untold cannot bind

	   In ignorance I live each day without fear
	     oblivious to death omnipresently everywhere
	    in each potently deadly soul be they far or be they near
	      for life and death and consequence we each share
	     needing to be needing,  being to dare

	   So to life leave to mystery and to death leave the facts
	     so cold and unchanging written in black upon black
	    for living is standing with the truth to our backs
	      facing the yet-to-be true,  the ever changing track
	     surmounting the known with each little act

	   Thinking meaning existed then,  or when,  or ever
	     we see ourselves as lost and forever wandering blind
	    yet to see truth as evolving becoming full truly never
	      is to accept ignorance as a fact,  a mean state of mind
	     knowing all knowing soon succumbs to time


			       My Country

Hail to thee,  my country
  Born as Athens,  then again as Rome
 never a nobler conqueror this world has known
   engaging and enslaving others by ideals alone
  hoping they may be as free as we may be

May our God be as forgiving of we
  all too often led by our power gone astray
 yet bold we must be for it is only our way
   and only courageous assurance will rule this day
  and make destiny bow to thee

Should all men be living free
  may our many errors in their true light be shown
 and be judged by those whose responsibilities for themselves match our own
   for what we did,  right or wrong,  by it they will have grown
  enough to see how better it should be


			       Askance Anew

	        Given in to taking,
		  demanding what is not offered,
	         for what in life will life give
		   to he who is not prepared to receive,
		  not ready to turn over every stone,
		    called forth by what fates might await
		   those who never will to settle

	        Receiving all that satisfies
		  serves only to whet ones appetite anew
	         for tastes as yet untried,
		   gains as yet ungarnered,
		  by those who long only to do
		    and by doing to be that which does,
		   having in using,  gaining by spending

	        Taken in again
		  by the sorted thrill of the chase
	         to gain that which mystifies
		   before its novel facade fades
		  showing forth again what is true,
		    what is common,  what is ever appealing,
		   what is why we need and what


			     How Tastes Truth

		  How tastes truth,
		    sweet or sour,  bitter or bucolic,
		   so sayst he,  so sayst thee,
		     but how sayst me

		  'Tis which truths
		    as well as which to whom
		   and when to whom which
		     which whethers tastes

		  What asketh truth,
		    acknowledgment or actions,
		   understandings of underachievements
		     or nothing save simply saying 'What hey,'
		    when passing before passing away


			        Every Word

		  Every word in every book
		   ever today or ever any other day
		    merely is another way to say
		     I am, we do, they were and will
		      and until we are not we shall
		       and we will know what we do
		        and we will remember what was done
		         and sometimes venture some reasons why


			         Tomorrow

	    Tomorrow I shall awake
	      to the dawn of a brand new day
	     unseen,  unknown to any who live today
	      and think and dream and believe
	     that they know what with it will come or may
	      as I too asleep to it still yet hail its new way
	     and dare embrace,  to touch,  to taste
	      in haste that which casts today away
	     for the sake of forsaking this day that stays
	      too long making me gaze longingly toward unseen days
	     and praise that which may bring only greater pains,
	      to chance to lose,  yes,  but to chance to gain,
	        twice but chance to lose more of the same


			         The Sun

	     Beneath the sun I live
	       and by it I mark my way
	      measuring all my troubles to it,
	        yet coming no closer nor further away

	     It is to me what it is to you
	       and is to all what frames their day
	      ever unnoticed,  ever singularly static,
	        as we beneath it change as we may

	     To have,  to hold,  to see,
	       to live,  to run,  and to play,
	      to all we have done and will do,
	        to all who will come,  to all who've passed away,
	       to this sun,  to this one light of day
	         we owe one singularly solitary praise
	        for though far below to different gods we may pray
		  we gain and lose all by this orb of infinite days


			    Where within deceit

    Where within deceit lies profit,
      over those few in whom trust is not yet dead,
     over they who admit injury to claim understandings
       false they may be,  yet to them they are beholden
      to follow,  to love,  to live all but in vain
        losing not mere money nor pride nor innocence
       but being verily robbed of life,  of the right to believe
         and give freely of oneself without compunction or regret,
        who then can profit from this,
          from this theft who can draw breath,
         who can drink,  who can feed,  whose greed could this appease
           for what by wanting could having be more hollow









				    Part 3


			    Falling through time 

		       Falling through time
		         I pause to lose myself
		        deep within my mind
		         as each moment
		        fades into a blur
		         of what was and is
		        and things which never were
		         yet may be
		        if their voices are heard
		         as they clamor to me
		        to heed their call
		         to make their maybe worlds real
		        if they can be at all


			      Distant Shores

	         As I look to the open sea
		   I wonder what might await me
		  if I could force open fate's doors
		    and find myself on distant shores

	         I fancy I might soon set sail
		   away from my earthbound jail
		  toward a place where I can be free
		    and shun all the chains of duty

	         I would find a land of paradise
		   free from all malice and vice
		  where every action comes from love,
		    truly a model for any heaven above

	         Soon though,  I must turn away
		   and return to the toils of my day
		  but I hope someday someone will find
		    that such a place lies not just in my mind


			         Vestabur

	 Of all the great legends
	   which ever were
	  no name rings truer
	    than that of the mighty Vestabur
	   who gave all for nothing
	     chasing humanity's forgotten cure

	 In the land of Vikings
	   during the most violent of ancient days
	  this strongest of warriors wept
	    for man's seemingly eternal malaise
	   which pitted man against man
	     and goodness against stronger selfish ways

	 Finding none who were worthy
	   of his inestimable prowess of force
	  he then sailed off alone
	    letting fate decide his course
	   driven by a sense of uneasiness
	     and determined to find its source

	 For fourteen lonely days
	   and fifteen turbulent nights
	  no glimpse of sunlight broke the clouds
	    and no sign of land reached his sights
	   until at last upon that final day
	     he saw mountains of astonishing heights

	 The mountains reached right to the sea
	   barren of any form of living thing,
	  so empty and gray and desolate
	    no comfort did its appearance bring
	   with such an endlessly imposing facade
	     that even the sea birds no longer did sing

	 Hungry and weary from his journey,
	   Vestabur hastened to go ashore
	  but little respite did he receive
	    as his hands became bloodied and sore
	   in trying to climb those rugged cliffs
	     which appeared to go on forever more

	 After what seemed an eternity,
	   he reached the top of a peak
	  only to be confronted
	    by a winged creature that could speak
	   which had hovered before him
	     and asked him what he seeked

	 A dragon some would call it 
	   though dragons were not so small
	  for this scaly quite ugly sprite
	    stood no more than three feet tall
	   and because of its tiny wings,
	     one wondered how it flew at all

	 Vestabur thought for a bit
	   and then said, "To end my pain
	  for I am tired,  cold,  and hungry
	    and am quickly becoming lame
	   as I have traveled long and hard
	     only to find nothing gained."

	 After a long pause of suspicion
	   the creature looked wary and replied,
	  "A bed and shelter and food,
	    these things I can easily provide
	   but surely thou travels not for these
	     for everywhere these comforts reside."

	 The warrior let out a thunderous laugh
	   and said, "Thou art a wise sprite
	  for seeing deeper than I might wish
	    but thou art most certainly right
	   in that I seek relief of a deeper pain
	     than one can name or hold in sight."

	 He continued, "If thou wouldst comfort me
	   with the provisions that thou didst say
	  I would be in thy gravest debt
	    and shall be most eager to repay
	   by naming my pain as yet untold
	     if it pleaseth thee for me to say."

	 It was early the following morning
	   when Vestabur awoke invigorated and refreshed
	  that he told the sprite his woeful tale
	    of how the worst in Man destroyed the best
	   and it was then that he heard the prolific words
	     which would set him upon his greatest quest

	 The creature spoke in a low solemn tone,
	   "Thy vision is true and thy heart is pure
	  for there is a plague of greed upon the land
	    by which Man is poisoned and cannot long endure
	   but all hope has not yet been lost
	     for there is a place which covets the cure."

	 "Devils be damned and heavens praised,"
	   Vestabur abruptly and joyfully exclaimed,
	  "A thousand blessings be upon thee
	    if thou wouldst only speak the name
	   of that place which has come to possess
	     such an auspicious claim to fame."

	 "Mubarakk," the winged creature said
	   as it began to fly out of his sight,
	  "Sail in the direction of the setting sun
	    for a hundred days and nights,
	   turn back for no one and nothing
	     and never give into your fright."

	 Slowly Vestabur made his way down
	   the dangerous steep mountain's edge
	  working his way away from the house
	    that the creature had built upon a ledge
	   with his mind dwelling upon the words
	     the strange creature had last said

	 The fury of the seven seas
	   hath no fury like that of a man possessed
	  to achieve that one goal or reward
	    that he knows in his heart to be the best,
	   not for himself but for his whole world
	     and Vestabur was driven by nothing less

	 Through the harshest of storms he sailed
	   unrelentingly plodding on toward some place
	  where he knew he would be gravely taxed
	    in a test which could affect his whole race
	   so he bore the worst the sea could give
	     and he swore he would not act in haste

	 During a rare moment of peace and calm
	   he happened upon a lush tropical isle,
	  a garden of endless sensual delights
	    radiating a joy that could make the devil smile
	   so it was here that he stopped for more supplies
	     and a place where he could rest for awhile

	 Words cannot describe the beauty of that place
	   or of the friendliness people there had showed
	  upon the storied stranger weak and frail
	    half-starved and half-crazed by his chosen road
	   to rid the world of its evil and its pains
	     that some unseen demon or god ungraciously bestowed

	 But here there was no hate or selfishness
	   and the world he left behind seemed to fade away,
	  just a nightmare that lingered in some twilight time
	    forgotten but not leaving its importance betrayed
	   as it clamored to him in his restless troubled sleep
	     and its resolve in hope there too vice could be allayed

	 And the love that had been denied to him before
	   came to him in that wonderful enchanted place
	  in the guise of beauty Mirimaney Kondessay
	    who embodied the purest of virtue, love, and grace
	   with the glimmer of a thousand stars within her eyes
	     and a radiance as great as the sun within her face

	 Here was contentedness and here was untold joy
	   which he had never dreamt could be before
	  yet deep within he knew he'd never see again
	    for he knew that this place was merely a door
	   to be passed through and left behind forever
	     and that more pains of the past lay in store

	 Though this hurt was far deeper than any others,
	   Vestabur left quietly during one calm night
	  again sailing toward the land of the setting sun
	    cursing himself for being too weak to ignite
	   courage enough to bid farewell his new bride
	     and still be able to continue on with his plight

	 Five weeks hence, his supplies again exhausted
	   he found another island to look for food to eat
	  but no land of paradise was this evil isle
	    as death lay everywhere eager to meet
	   this giant of a man who dared enter the domain
	     of the Banu tribe with painted hands and feet

	 In the shank of the evening the blood bath erupted
	   as Vestabur awoke to them attacking him one by one
	  yet each time he triumphed, another foe lay vanquished,
	    and over a hundred lay dead before the dying was done
	   when ten men rushed him cracking his skull
	     for as the mighty Vestabur fell the battle was won

	 When he awoke he found himself tied
	   upon a yoke of precious metals lined with jewels
	  in the hall of a gigantic luxurious marble palace
	    among sculptures carved by the finest artisan's tools,
	   displayed along beside them atop a high ledge
	     being gawked at by a court filled with noble fools

	 From his perch he could look down and see 
	   the story of the kingdom unfold beneath his eyes
	  as the monarch sat upon a throne of the finest jade
	    doling out the most incredulous of lies
	   eagerly consumed by a nation taught only obedience
	     caring not that they had no will to compromise

	 Thrice daily he would be washed and fed
	   serving no more purpose than that of a living statue
	  declaring to all the power of the emperor
	    which his bound and helpless state showed true
	   yet only his body lay confined and constrained
	     while his mind raced to uncover any opportunity cue

	 For the first time in his victory filled life
	   Vestabur was held prisoner like some animal in a cage
	  removed from the freedoms he had always known
	    and daily he held witness to his mounting rage
	   at the atrocious abuses of power going on below
	     which we affecting him more than he could ever gauge

	 As he saw even mere children condemned to die
	   for deeds done by their parents or other kin
	  he vowed he would rid this world of this tyrant
	    before resuming the task long ago did he begin
	   believing nothing he could do could ever surpass
	     this victory over viciousness which he had to win

	 After the trials which always ended up executions,
	   Emperor Kyrik would stand alone in this hall
	  admiring his statues and opulent ornaments
	    gloating over having the power of death over all
	   and one day he spoke to Vestabur shackled high above,
	     "Thy head from thy neck might as easily fall!"

	 "Thou wouldst suffer far more than me
	   for I knowst a place of untold treasure,"
	  Vestabur answered,  "and beauty far greater
	    than could give such a beast as thee pleasure
	   for the wealth of this place surmounts all 
	     that thou has is this hall or could measure."

	 "And all I must do to have this marvelous wealth
	   is to set thee free I supposeth,"  the emperor said,
	  "yet I be not the fool thou thinkst I am
	    for only moments later I wouldst surely be dead
	   though I thinkst thou speaketh the truth
	     so I shall send out my armies to search instead."

	 Moments later the emperor returned to the hall
	   where Vestabur stood consumed by his flaming hate
	  for the man who now predicted complete success
	   in plundering all wealth as his armies would devastate
	  all peoples weaker be they near or far away
	    and as he said so Vestabur realized it was too late

	 Suddenly he was struck with a vision
	   of the island of boundless beauty and grace
	  being raped of the riches it shone forth,
	    the kindness and the love too strong to erase
	   would doom them to be destroyed one and all
	     as the vipers poisoned that wondrous place

	 As the emperor laughed far below
	   Vestabur saw him directly beneath the ledge
	  and summoning all the strength left in him
	    he tipped the stone stockade using his foot as a wedge
	   tilting it forward inch by inch as his foot crushed
	     until at last the stone and he tumbled over the edge

	 He awoke upon a gallows before a crowd
	   shouting curses at him for killing the emperor,
	  no joy did they have for being set free
	    as they began to stone the mighty Vestabur
	   and the reasons why he craved that death
	     were so tainted by this he could no longer remember

	 "These fools shall never become free,"
	   Vestabur thought as he prepared to die,
	  "for they haveth no meaning or goals in life
	    save for those given by some ruler up high
	   and such as being as me wouldst never be
	     forced or force others to live out such a lie."

	 Bracing himself for the final yank nearing,
	   he felt proud for having the chance to have been
	  and he feared not death nor pain nor loss
	    for he knew that this was not his true end
	   because his quest was still not near resolution
	     meaning he still would be though knowing not when

	 He saw the coming events proceed in stills,
	   like photographs or like cards taken out of deck,
	  when the trapdoor fell and chaos ensued
	    while the rope snapped close around his strong neck
	   seeing lightening strike the crowd around him
	     then seeing the whole scene fall to a distant speck

			     End of Part One

	        Vestabur-  Conclusion (middle parts missing)

	 How Vestabur had come to arrive there
	   I doubt that anyone could truly say
	  and where exactly there might have been
	    could easily go unknown for a million more days
	   so sadly I am left merely able to say
	     that at long last Vestabur had found his way

	 This isle was a perfect circle with a solitary peak
	   which rose forth from the center and ended in a cloud
	  but no joy came from his mighty heart as it raced
	    with a ferocity such that he thought it echoed out loud
	   and a solemn melancholy gripped his whole being
	     fearing the cloud above was his eternal shroud

	 Driven by forces too powerful to dare resist
	   he laughed as he pondered his very first fear,
	  that of reaching the end of his long troubled journey,
	    not of failing but of the success now drawing near
	   and that vague notion of a final resolution
	     made him shake violently as its meaning became clear

	 No more venturing would be should he succeed
	   in ridding the world of all ails and ills
	  as his meaning dissolved before the face of the resolve
	    that drove him here and would carry him up that hill
	   which cursed his success and dared him to leave
	     while he still knew who he was,  knowing he could be still

	 But fear could have no hold over him
	   and he let the sensation run its course and go
	  as he slowly made his way toward the town
	    that his visions of forbearance quickly let him know
	   would await him at the foot of that mount
	     and would surprise him with an unexpected foe

	 Pleasant were the people of this remote town
	   eager to meet and greet this great stranger,
	  so accommodating and polite,  he was so enthralled
	    and taken aback by this kindness he saw no danger
	   in dallying for a time to repay their generous hospitality
	     when asked to stay awhile and tend to their manger

	 Strange animals he found in that pristine barn
	   where he came to work to tend their stout stock,
	  healthy and boisterous and so uncannily attuned
	    to service that he had but to think to command a flock,
	   sheep which went daily to a meadow undistinguished
	     but for an eerily glowing pile of mountain rocks

	 There at dusk after a hard day's work
	   atop the rocks he felt free as never before
	  in command of his self and his destiny
	    so much so that the future he dreaded lay in store
	   now seemed amicable and even friendly to him
	     smiling down on him because he dreaded it no more

	 Day after day went past while he worked
	   without notice of the time or the passing seasons
	  that soon changed to years,  then many years
	    but this seemed not to his goal to be of any treason
	   for this was but a temporary stop on his journey
	     and all must always be because of due reason

	 Four and forty years passed before he noticed
	   how those rocks that he sat upon for so long
	  were to be found in every house and every meeting place,
	    and how they glowed when the townsfolk would throng
	   for some festive event which celebrated each new day
	     as a new era never seeing how much that view was wrong

	 Time made no mark upon this forgotten place
	   as generation after generation came and passed
	  without making any innovation or any new creations
	    to distinguish one era from the next or truths from the mask
	   tradition builds to preserve all views from before
	     and strives to keep any questions from being asked

	 This is in all lands but nowhere else was it so clear
	   as here where there was no small task ever new
	  nor any thought different than those of the day before
	    for even as children learned and constantly grew
	   there was no dividing lines nor any individual patterns
	     setting them apart from each other in what they did or knew

	 Individuals had no meaning to be found here
	   as all worked to serve all others without thought
	  for themselves or for the betterment of others
	    who shared not their secluded seemingly ideal spot
	   yet they did not know of the horrors that lay
	     beyond their vision or of the wrongs elsewhere wrought

	 Yet Vestabur found his gift of inner visions
	   not to be strange nor did he find anyone astounded
	  by his presence nor did they ask of where he came
	    and when he spoke of the past,  they were not dumbfounded
	   but would knowingly bow their head in acquiescence
	     whereupon the sorrows of the outside world were sounded

	 Longing to know just how much they knew
	   Vestabur questioned his friend Baynu without respite
	  until at last he admitted they all knew the truth
	    of the world from which he had long left in flight
	   and he too said the cure to all man's troubles
	     lay at the top of the mountain forever in their sight

	 Furious,  Vestabur lashed out in utter condemnation
	   at the whole town knowingly just standing by
	  doing nothing while evil lay everywhere hurting all
	    while they did nothing to aid in its possible demise,
	   instead languishing in the luxury of goodwill
	     without the fortitude to make all of mankind so wise

	 "But what of thou,"  Baynu said in a forgiving way
	   "We cometh here by our forefathers searching like thee
	  and it was here that the stones lastly didst them comfort
	    letting them know from their demons they be free
	   not having to purge themselves of others shortcomings and sins
	     and giving them peace the world beyond wouldst not let be."

	 Again rekindling the fire that led him here,
	   he fled the town in a fit of unseemly haste
	  violently clawing his way up that mountainside
	    not allowing himself chance to rethink out of fear he'd waste
	   this one last chance to gain what he had come for,
	     to rid life of its bile and bitterness of taste

	 He climbed until he could climb no more
	   frozen by the winds chiding "Death is at hand,"
	  and there he most surely would have died
	    had it not been for the kindness of a man
	   who had made his camp near the top long ago
	     in the mists of a cloud high above the land

	 Small he was though he did not look frail
	   and his temperament was decidedly meek
	  yet Vestabur felt humbled and quite afraid
	    of this man who many might think to be weak
	   for the fire in his eyes and the weight of his words
	     left the giant too afraid to dare speak

	 Though this man did his best to reassure him,
	   Vestabur could not come to feel at ease here
	  for always was he the most powerful one
	    yet this tiny man somehow made him to fear
	   even though he knew this man meant him no harm
	     making him ever more uncomfortable when he came near

	 After a time he found the courage to speak
	   his irrational fear to this gentle little man
	  and he found himself being able to clearly express
	    notions that he did not even fully understand
	   while saying to this compassionate patron of help
	     how he feared himself no longer in command

	 The look on this stranger's face released him
	   from the fear that he felt within his heart
	  for Vestabur understood that this man knew
	    his fears and his need to feel apart,
	   to be bigger and better than all the rest
	     and how he had need for them all in his heart

	 "That thou wishst to serve thy people
	   is honorable is didst bring thou to me
	  here on thy mountain today,"  the man said,
	    "as my wish to serve my people faithfully
	   hast brought me here to await thee
	     and help thou learn what it is thou seeks."

	 Vestabur relayed his entire life's history
	   to this stranger upon a cliff high in the air
	  telling him of his joys and his loves lost
	    and how the whole world seemed in deep despair
	   hoping that when he ended his tales of the past
	     he might be told if his future lay there

	 Instead the man said nothing at all
	   of what Vestabur ought next to wish to do
	  as he motioned toward the top of the peak
	    saying, "The end is there to go if thou needst to
	   but what thou may find is within thee now
	     and will still be there when thy journey is through."

	 With great trepidations,  Vestabur went outside
	   to gaze at the peak barely visible in the pall
	  seeming so near that he could be there now
	    without needing to have to go there at all
	   and without realizing it he was doing so,
	     climbing as if answering some inner call

	 Then it happened as the universe ended
	   without Vestabur or the snowy mountain top
	  because it all had come to an end long,  long ago
	    before the beginning with no story now to stop
	   for he realized all he had lived for could never be
	     as his whole life fell like rain or a single teardrop

	 Wanting for everyone to live in joy,
	   knowing what it truly is like to live free
	  was to him then and is to us in our time now
	    forever to be more of a dream than a reality
	   as it can never be that for any who are free
	     not to be able and therefore not to do,  us misery





		      Other poetry books by Jared P. DuBois

       
			       The Versatile Verse
 
				    repetition

				    Triumvirum

				    Quadranine

			             pentacle
				    (mini-book)

      
				   and Montage,

			 a collection taken from all above