The Riddle
By Morgan LeFay
Once a long time backIn my own village fareA stranger came a callingAstride an elder, broken mareWe children gathered 'bout himShouting for a taleHe only raised his eye browsAnd spoke this riddle without fale'What comes to the young Seeking the aged as well Sometimes joyess, sometimes sad Yet always rings the bell It comes for minds and hearts Carrying the body along Harsh and cruel and careless As flippant as a song It is not always welcome Trading in bondage and sadness Yet still it holds our soul's release To romp this world with gladness.'So as he spoke we listenedTo words of gilded goldAnd as we thought he watched usWith eyes of ancient oldI could not solve his riddleNeither then nor nowIt remains to me as of the mysteriesOf long lost Celt or TaoBut still my mind has wonderedAt that stranger's weary mirthAnd perhaps I know the answerBut is it Death's abandon or the slavement of Birth?Thought of this one on the bus from the first day of school. The Haiku was written first to give me an idea of the other, but it first came with the thought of gilded gold and ancient old. Written August 17th, 2001 © on Aug 17 2001 02:25 PM PST 0 • 13
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"Once a long time backIn my own village fareA stranger came a callingAstride an elder, broken mareWe children gathered 'bout himShouting for a taleHe only raised his eye browsAnd spoke this riddle without fale'What comes to the young Seeking the aged as well Sometimes joyess, sometimes sad Yet always rings the bell It comes for minds and hearts Carrying the body along Harsh and cruel and careless As flippant as a song It is not always welcome Trading in bondage and sadness Yet still it holds our soul's release To romp this world with gladness.'So as he spoke we listenedTo words of gilded goldAnd as we thought he watched usWith eyes of ancient oldI could not solve his riddleNeither then nor nowIt remains to me as of the mysteriesOf long lost Celt or TaoBut still my mind has wonderedAt that stranger's weary mirthAnd perhaps I know the answerBut is it Death's abandon or the slavement of Birth?Thought of this one on the bus from the first day of school. The Haiku was written first to give me an idea of the other, but it first came with the thought of gilded gold and ancient old...."