CICADA

On a young green leaf, under a delicate canopy of its own wings, sat a cicada, singing the praise to the beautiful world. A human noticed the little creature, caught it, and took it away so it would sing its songs in his home for him alone…

After a war’s cacophony of cries and tears, of swords and bows, there was silence. In the silence, the lord of the victorious side walked the streets of his newly conquered city. In the silence, a feeble sound of a lute he heard was like a thunder.

The lord followed the sound, curious. The weeping song led him to a fountain, marble-white but filled with red to the brim.

There, by the fountain, a wounded bard sat under a canopy of a charred tree, and played. Madness was in his eyes but his fingers and his trusty lute still served him well.

The lord told his soldiers to seize the bard and take him away, so he would sing his songs in the Arid lands for the lord alone.

(June 28, 2003)