It is
the dream of every poem to be a myth. Galway Kinnell
I read
this and think of King Arthur and Sir Lancelot and the knights of the Round
Table. I check out the Round Table to
find out if it was made of wood or stone, and learn that St. Luke recorded that
Christ and the Apostles sat at a circular table during the Last Supper. I never knew that. It seems that before that, Celtic warriors,
also, sat at round tables. The round
table sets up a seating arrangement of equality, and also, symbolizes the
roundness of the earth, and so, I wonder how they knew. Did they figure it out by watching boats sail
away and the setting of the sun? When
did the world become flat, and why? Are
we in a continual process of leavening and unleavening our knowledge, like
bread? Is there less reason than I
thought to fear what I perceive as a current rising ignorance.? Is it only breath, soothing itself, in a balance of moving,
in and out.
A circular table symbolizes equality. Is that completely possible among we
humans? Do we still yearn for the days
of the cave, the clan with a leader, a
shaman, a healer, and hunters that followed the wisdom of age?
I don’t
know. I am searching with a probe, a
torch on fire, to find the drawings
carved on the walls of the cave, to reveal the origin of my myth, so I can
untangle it and share it, like a meal, with you.