Ismaili.NET - Heritage F.I.E.L.D.

CLOCK, what do you want from me?

Go somewhere else to peddle your fakes.

I know your game - go and bother

someone else - anyone you like.

Only yesterday I was ambling along

ignorant of your tricks,

bumbling, grinning idiot,

handsome as a tailor s dummy.

You joined me - all at once

youth and delight drained away,

picked out of my pocket -

thief! Callous highwayman!

Friends, let me warn you:

a whale, once it s decided

to eat you, may take its time,

but sooner or later - GULP

- down the hatch - and so it is

with the world. Innocenti,

sooner or later you re going

to have to climb up out of

that well, that smoky

gravity-laden pit you call

your body - source of all grief and perversion.

Mon vieux, you ve started

to shrink alarmingly. Stretch

out the hand of worship,

quick, quick . . . dear me,

what an unsightly hump

you seem to have acquired.

Can t you straighten up?

Speak sense? get hold

of yourself? Pray more?

The soul is whole-wheat

and the body is chaff. Have you

ever considered that? All

those sweet temptations of the

flesh - nothing but empty

husks? You re like a fly

who boasts about his tailor -

the Spider. Or a goldfish

set free in the Atlantic

just before hurricane season.

And let me tell you:

you re thinking of leaving

and making it to dry land

you d better learn how to

grow yourself a pair of

feet. Because fish don t

make much progress on

sandy beaches.

Your Majesty, cast an eye

on these poor dervishes

and learn how to be grateful

for your good luck and power.

Because the moon may shine

at the bottom of a well,

but it never loses any of its

silvery sheen. Because the stars

have robbed many a monarch

of is throne like Attila the Hun.

Listen to the PROOF:

he s nor selling any

professional flattery.