‘The Quest’
Once in a little kingdom very, very far away
A hundred generations from the wisdom of our day
There was a group of men of fabled curiosity
Who sought to delve into the depths of every mystery.
And so, when they in journeys to the outer world first heard
Of trilling from the ancient forest of a splendid bird,
They sought to go and capture it, and to close scrutiny
Subject its song to study so that they might better see
Whence came arresting beauty, and so to the forest went
Because to solving all perplexities their minds were bent
By long and careful study at the university
And they could not abide for long a small uncertainty.
So off they went and there they searched for many, many weeks
Convinced that what they wanted most must fall to he who seeks
With utmost dedication till he grasps the golden ring -
Until one fateful day, at last, they heard perfection sing.
So beautiful, mellifluous, so vital and so round
And satisfying to the ear and hungry soul the sound,
They stood in rapture and in awe for what they thought an hour
Transfixed and pinioned to the spot as if they lacked the power
To move, and over them there came an unaccustomed peace
And all the torments of their lives forgot, and won release.
But then, remembering the mission for which they’d been sent
They tracked the songbird in its flight, and everywhere it went
These men of science ever nearer to its small nest drew
And there, while it was sleeping, they at last impatient grew.
They threw a net, and captured it, and chortled they had won
Their prize at last, so jubilant, because their work was done.
Back to the little kingdom that was fashioned by proud man
They hurried to begin their greater work; ah yes, the plan:
To analyze him unto death, and keep him in his cage
Until at last his secret was possessed by every sage.
Arriving at the kingdom they began their work at once
Recording him, and listening, as if each were a dunce
Who’d lived a life and never heard the harmonies birds sing
And though their methods were complete they could not find a thing
Accounting for the beauty of the wondrous song that topped
The symphonies of ancient masters; then, the music stopped.
They fed him special dainties and looked on with hopeful eyes,
But silence and a welling anger was their only prize.
And so, because their kindness had in silence been ignored
And this one favor they most sought had not yet been restored,
A fateful choice was made at last and hasty plans were laid
And these fine gentlemen, austere and in demeanor staid
Resolved to win their prize at last, because they had a need
For fame throughout eternity, and so they stopped his seed.
Alas! No trills, sublime and rich, would issue from his crop;
One day, when they had reached wits end, they heard a little drop.
There at the bottom of his cage, he lay, to sing no more
And all these men of genius the wiser sort adore
Were exiled, shamed and penniless, to the most distant post
And that small thing the common man had really wanted most -
To hear the song that mended broken lives and made them whole,
That in the scheme of many lives had such a central role,
Was gone forever, dying like a secret, unshared word,
As evanescent as the fleeting lifetime of the bird.
What have the sages of a later age from all this learned;
Have we from flights of vanity and pretense ever turned?
We listen to a melody that softly breaks our heart
And then, we ask the mystery that underpins its art.
What are the rhythm and the rhyme that makes it so compel
And on these dusty old details we ponder, like a spell
Envelopes us until we wake and find the bird has flown
And we have lost the only thing we ever need have known.
Once in a little kingdom very, very far away
A hundred generations from the wisdom of our day
There was a group of men of fabled curiosity
Who sought to delve into the depths of every mystery.
And so, when they in journeys to the outer world first heard
Of trilling from the ancient forest of a splendid bird,
They sought to go and capture it, and to close scrutiny
Subject its song to study so that they might better see
Whence came arresting beauty, and so to the forest went
Because to solving all perplexities their minds were bent
By long and careful study at the university
And they could not abide for long a small uncertainty.
So off they went and there they searched for many, many weeks
Convinced that what they wanted most must fall to he who seeks
With utmost dedication till he grasps the golden ring -
Until one fateful day, at last, they heard perfection sing.
So beautiful, mellifluous, so vital and so round
And satisfying to the ear and hungry soul the sound,
They stood in rapture and in awe for what they thought an hour
Transfixed and pinioned to the spot as if they lacked the power
To move, and over them there came an unaccustomed peace
And all the torments of their lives forgot, and won release.
But then, remembering the mission for which they’d been sent
They tracked the songbird in its flight, and everywhere it went
These men of science ever nearer to its small nest drew
And there, while it was sleeping, they at last impatient grew.
They threw a net, and captured it, and chortled they had won
Their prize at last, so jubilant, because their work was done.
Back to the little kingdom that was fashioned by proud man
They hurried to begin their greater work; ah yes, the plan:
To analyze him unto death, and keep him in his cage
Until at last his secret was possessed by every sage.
Arriving at the kingdom they began their work at once
Recording him, and listening, as if each were a dunce
Who’d lived a life and never heard the harmonies birds sing
And though their methods were complete they could not find a thing
Accounting for the beauty of the wondrous song that topped
The symphonies of ancient masters; then, the music stopped.
They fed him special dainties and looked on with hopeful eyes,
But silence and a welling anger was their only prize.
And so, because their kindness had in silence been ignored
And this one favor they most sought had not yet been restored,
A fateful choice was made at last and hasty plans were laid
And these fine gentlemen, austere and in demeanor staid
Resolved to win their prize at last, because they had a need
For fame throughout eternity, and so they stopped his seed.
Alas! No trills, sublime and rich, would issue from his crop;
One day, when they had reached wits end, they heard a little drop.
There at the bottom of his cage, he lay, to sing no more
And all these men of genius the wiser sort adore
Were exiled, shamed and penniless, to the most distant post
And that small thing the common man had really wanted most -
To hear the song that mended broken lives and made them whole,
That in the scheme of many lives had such a central role,
Was gone forever, dying like a secret, unshared word,
As evanescent as the fleeting lifetime of the bird.
What have the sages of a later age from all this learned;
Have we from flights of vanity and pretense ever turned?
We listen to a melody that softly breaks our heart
And then, we ask the mystery that underpins its art.
What are the rhythm and the rhyme that makes it so compel
And on these dusty old details we ponder, like a spell
Envelopes us until we wake and find the bird has flown
And we have lost the only thing we ever need have known.