While in England for my Pentecost Lecture, I went to the libraries of the Oxbridge Amalgamated University to further research James Watt's papers. I discovered this strange poem, misfiled perhaps by an archivist. What can you make of it?
The Pot and the Pan
A Eulogy by
For water and fish
In place of bread
For want of fire
For fear
Tinderbox closed
Gone unused yet not rusted not without love
For weight of iron – no burden or weight
For travelers strange and strangers
Sign of hill and home
I bury you and commend you
For weapons against hunger and despair
I bury you to preserve you for some chance stranger
All I may carry now is friend and vial and tender gift
No more to table shall I go, no more to bed
For to our end we must go
For to what may come next in this life become story, I know not
For to our end we must go
I do not know if Slinker will bite or if my Master will fail
But to the our end we must go
Our quest may fail but our friendship will not
That is our end to which we must go
What a discovery! You have unearthed something of middle earth and there is something buried in the earth. We must go!
ReplyDeleteMagus, I know that you have recently taken an interest in what you have called the realm of "fairie." I thought belief in this to have died out decades ago as the steam drove away specters of fantasy and brought about the advent of science and progress. Could this mean that, in fact, mystery, wonder, dare I say MAGIC, have had, and may yet have, a role to play in the shaping of the present world? That perhaps "pot and pan" and other implements of TECHNE are not the only route into our future, but even after we advance beyond our advancements, something more ancient, lasting, true might remain? Such a prospect is surely grounds for great hope. For to our end we must go...
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