checkerboard-world

Once I met a wealthy lord. He had a palace built of precious stones, land enough to bury a country, and men enough to conquer it in arms; he had a large and prosperous family, with seven sons to whom he bequeathed more than they could have asked of him; he had livestock and slaves, allies and vassals; and most of all, a properly vast banqueting hall, in which he was not shy to hold many a merry event. All this he had, and prudence and love besides, which are at least as rare as the rest; but when I met him there was one matter in which his heart was less than wise. When I met him he lamented, "If only I were free!" This desire he thought an

(You come down at night.) Condensing in the quiet shade, the crevices and corners, we emerge. Are those our tinkling footsteps you hear behind you? Look around, and we are hidden. (Like lanterns or insects, you alight in the dim reaches of the alleyways.) We love your clumsiness. Where would you be, if we were not here to clean up after you? We retrace the outlines of the shadows when they are scuffed by the great soles of your feet. Our lights are kind, and they do not push the poor things about like others do. (You dance on my window-sill.) We sweep away the reflections on the glass when they grow dim. Perhaps that is a little of our