Curses!
Curses! A rational mind would say and stone
A venomous snake. The absurd dares a cyclone,
To remove its fangs but forgets its offsprings,
Will still bare them, and in their numbers or skills
They’re an omen of a conceivable decay,
With a distressing end, to illustrate and weigh:
A hunter went out one day to hunt, a daily toil,
Like he’d done since he was a little boy,
Until his footsteps fitted into his father’s
And quicker. Tired from the day’s sagas,
He headed home with his spoils of the hunt.
A snake neared; its rattling, ready to confront.
‘I’m not after you, my friend.’ It hissed.
‘Do spare me something to eat. Be just.’
‘I’ve nothing for you, repulsive creature!
How vile. You’re not to be trusted either.’
The hunter boomed from a knowing in his bones,
Then chased it away with stones and oaths.
On arriving home, he heard the hissing again.
The snake had followed him, there and then,
It pleaded, ‘Remove my fangs, to prove
I wish no harm to you or your family group.’
Not everything has to have meaning to span,
Full of reproof, or a lesson to reflect on.
What it serves is making the unaware aware,
The grace of moonlight after dark, that’s fair.
