Driftwood

Come, warm your hands
From the cold wind of time.
I have built here under the moon,
a many-coloured fire
With fragments of wood
That have been part of a tree
And part of a ship.

Were leaves more real,
Or driven nails,
Of fingers of builders,
Than these burning violets?
Come, warm your hands
From the cold wind of time.
There’s a fire under the moon.

-Witter Bynner (1881-1968)

Ninja Anecdote

Poor ninja, unemployed (for the demand for assassinations has vanished). Now ninja is a janitor, working in the dark, flipping and maneuvering as trained, as desired, in solitude (working lonely graveyards creates cushion between ninja’s killer instinct and civilian meekness). One night while shadowing back to his lair, fly-floating as phantoms do, thru the streets & trees, the ninja notices a damsel in distress (breaking ninja’s stoic indifference for the 1st time). Ninja instantly and quickly disposes... without mercy. The savagery was over, her tears flowed no more, her eyes lit-up bright with life. Ninja becomes inspired to use the shadows for justice, fighting crime as heroes do, that is until crime ceased at night and continued only by day. Damn success. Now again, the ninja is a janitor, only now he glows.

- JJ (1981-)

Rubaiyat 51

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it

-Omar Khayyam (1048-1131)