I was born to be a metaphor; <br />Darwin, embarrassed, did not talk of me; <br />I did not fit into his scheme of things; I, <br />knowing secrets of the tears of things, <br />while he used his fine mind <br />(which is, so obviously, beyond the physical) <br />to deny that world, the metaphysical.. <br /> <br />To be a metaphor <br />you need to know your place; <br />stay around too long, you lose <br />that vital force; no one believes <br />in the unbelievable – when there’s no mystery, <br />that’s the end of metaphor for man. <br /> <br />Better choose a quiet place, <br />some corner of a foreign field <br />only to be found in mind, <br />do the necessary – a few dry leaves and sticks <br />to lay false trail – and the semblance of a nest; you, <br />a place apart.. <br /> <br />The desert, then, was easier; Egypt understood; <br />the sun rose warm <br />on the eggshell of pure thought; <br />Greece, appreciative, then found a name for me; <br />a whole race followed in my rise; <br />Rome was, how to put it, unoriginal; <br />America called a dry town, in an arid zone, after me; <br />may yet know me, nested in my cruellest magnificence, <br />ash and twisted steel and concrete, office equipment; <br />I a metaphor, awaiting a new birth.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/0003-reborn-metaphor/
