Demon Dream - 2. Light within Dark

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I need a new master;

A new and better one!’

The servant’s mood was tried

And worn out through travel.

Now this desolate road

– Just a ribbon of dirt –

Seemed to be the last straw.

‘Didn’t he consider

The late hour we struck out?

Now, stuck in the nowhere;

No people, no houses,

No place to bed, no…oh.’

A new thought hit him hard.

‘Nothing for my stomach!’

He glanced up at the man

Walking in front him,

The re-hashed notion come:

‘I need a new master.’

The plains surrounding them

Were broad and summer-parched,

With a hazy network

Of peasant paths and trails

Crisscrossing the base of

Mount Adatara’s slopes.

By the route they trod now,

Ajisai grew in clumps,

Their wide leaves insect-chewed;

Their stalks crowned by hundreds

Of flowering blue sprays.

But servant, Tarogo,

Couldn’t bother to care.

‘All we have to eat are

Hydrangea for dinner!’

His foot kicked a large one,

Sending azure showers

Of pollen in the air.

A malevolent turn

Made him strike a neighbor.

His glare again beset

His master’s back ahead;

The servant’s eyes narrowed

To but disdainful slips.

‘If he knew my thinking,

I’d never live to see

Employ under a new

Master and family.’

But servant, Tarogo,

Was very much in error,

For out in front, master,

Yukei, was absent of

The taint of bitterness.

For, quite the opposite,

Yukei’s thoughts had been swamped

By all the sights and sounds

His hired man had ignored.

He thought of ajisai

And their earthly brothers,

The plants and blooming buds

Reaching ever upwards

For a light never touched.

How they stretched, even though

It burned them in this drought.

Yukei looked where he trod

And felt refreshed by his

Perennial outlook

Of young optimism.

Here in this light he’d felt

The air ‘round him enrich:

Turn from tinnish yellow

To deepen copper-gold,

So that now he could watch

The sky finally set

The fields afire in orange.

‘How like the human soul,’

Yukei’s wide-eyed wonder

Considered the matter,

‘These little moments are.

One microcosm is

Another soul’s cosmos;

Each separate, running smooth

In a much larger one,

Yet in blind harmony

With the spec'lative whole.

It is light within dark;

Chaos amongst order;

While still every being

Retains the memory

Of the much smaller place

From which it chanced to spring.

It’s how we remember

The womb as paradise;

And up and up it goes,

Until we may at last

Recall God’s entirety

Is in all that sprang from Him….’

“Master,” Tarogo said.

“It is getting dark, sir,

Shall I light the lantern?”

The master, peeved at this

Interruption of thought

By the interregnum

Of human speech, replied,

“Save the candle to use

Against the coming night,

Not the still-glowing dusk.”

His wisdom, needlessly

Pointed to chastising,

Had itself been rebuked.

And in the instant out,

Yukei perceived the flaw

As but a gnawing trait

He would daily battle

To rid from his nature.

“Tarogo,” his tone sang,

“What goes on in your head?

Won’t one night on the ground

– With all the sky of stars

Admitted as bedmates –

Be a damn sight better

Than your usual spot

On an unseeing and

Sterile, unmoving floor?”

He then added quickly,

“And can’t you imagine

A night without your meal

Will provide your system

Some much needed cleansing?”

The master’s face then smiled

While his finger reached out

To poke Tarogo’s ribs.

His servant stared at him

With a lost-for-words look.

“Yes, sir. It’s true,” he said,

But in his head, he thought,

‘I need a new master.’

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