I saw you once
Once, when the world now ending, Was first beginning, Thou immortal star of heaven everlasting Revealed thyself to me: In the ripe buds of freshly birthed spring In sensations of raindrops on my skin In the wondrous eye of every living babe In the cow eating grass like Buddha In the touch of a woman’s delicate finger In the glimmering sun dancing on water In her sister, rolling leaves in the wind In the noble cattle dog guarding his flock In the unconditional love for one another In the glory of the armed soldier In the workman hardened to steel In the hearty captain full of courage In the fathers hardworking love In the divinely inspired art of man In the infinite plains, mountains, oceans In every railway of mans piercing will In every act of subtle loyalty In every heartbeat of everything that lives I saw you once.
The muses three I went a searching for, That they might sing our just one song more, But found them hiding in a drunken flight, No interest left in the singing of our plight. So I turned away, left them in their stupor, Picked up my own bottle, and went in search of succor. In no time at all, for quick works the drink, I found myself reveling and beginning to think That this is the path! Glory of creation! Eden in which I might finally find negation. The days turned to weeks and then months and years Of total abandonment in the blisses of beer. Surrounded by strangers in Bacchic mirth, No thoughts left of woe or spiritual dearth. Endless bottles of brandy, gin, and Jack, Chased with cocaine!—t’was nothing I lacked. So thick got the fog I could no longer see The dancing men and women consuming me. Why was I here? or whence had I came? So I left it in further pursuit of my name: The Bardic Vagabond! called to me from the wood: There I set off to, that I’d find what I could. Just as the brooke, though rapt in glory be, Ever moves on in pursuit of the sea.
He sung the body electric. Very well. I shall sing too! O I’ll sing the twitching tail electric, Or is it the wind that fluffs you so? You who are lighter than air In magnificent bounds between treetops: First heaven of this world. Outspread, overhead, With fleshy stars of dripping juice. Dare I eat? Pass of a shadow overhead. The bells are rung. Toll’d world. ‘O how time flies!’ And I ask the squirrel if he knows how time flies? But he simply stares. And I ask if he’s seen The Whale? Sweet friend! Ignores me. Working away at the bitter shell, Getting at the nut.
— Cherubrah is a bardic vagabond