Ciliegia, the Unchosen Block
You cannot change the nature
of the grain,
be you fish or fairy.
He was too soft for a soul
sticky, black beneath the carving
knife, lost in the shavings.
The artisan knows
more than a mad puppeteer, who is deceived
by his hand’s vanity.
I cannot lie
for I am often felled in integrity.
This is no boy,
and I need no knots to see.
You cannot change the nature
of the grain,
be you fish or fairy.
He was too soft for a soul
sticky, black beneath the carving
knife, lost in the shavings.
The artisan knows
more than a mad puppeteer, who is deceived
by his hand’s vanity.
I cannot lie
for I am often felled in integrity.
This is no boy,
and I need no knots to see.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson