[image from google: QUIXOTE.tv.zazzle.com]
I mount my horse backward,
from the wrong side,
my cape tangling in the reins.
The horse is blind.
Desperate, but well-intentioned,
I slap its flank and wait
to see where we will go ~
who, up ahead, needs saving,
or who might just save me.
It appears the entire world has gone mad;
whole towns are drowning far from shore.
Super Heroes are in short supply, so
Ordinary Heroes are stepping up.
Turn around, turn around,
the horse whispers.
An eye for an eye has made
the whole world blind.
Facing forward, now, we plod,
on our perspicacious quest:
for leaders who understand how to lead,
for those in power to wield it well,
for the common folk to raise their voices
to a shout, for us all to understand
Mother Earth is trying to teach a world
full of imbeciles how to live.
On my quest, I have seen wonders: swans
at the edge of a misty river, hills purpling
in the falling dusk, the sun rising over
a sleepy inlet - beauty enough
to break my heart for all
we are losing.
I pen my desperate poem, my song
echoing across the dimensions
seeking help.
Its beat is weakening, but persistent,
a note of hope, faint, yet refusing
to give up.
I fling off my cape; it lands
on a grinning, big black wolf, who says,
while fastening its button under
his whiskery chin:
"Follow me. The ride will be wild,
and it will bring you joy and pain.
The world will save itself or not."
Oh yes! In a heartbeat,
I would do it all
again.
Well of course it is a wolf who arrives to rescue the rescuer.
For Brendan's challenge at Desperate Poets: Super Heroes.