Zarathustra told me "be calm"
And gently folded closed my eyes
“There’s no depth to escape from
There’s no eternal prize.
Your wire was our bridge, dear son
Above the raging current of man”
No, wise one, say it isn't so
Will I balance again
Above the glistening, crystal waters?
Please tell me that it doesn’t end!
“Be calm, dear son, you’ve neither
Lost nor won
Your trials will soon be over”
Why do you carry me into the night?
Why am I in the trees?
It’s cold here, friend!
Don’t leave me here afraid, dark and lonely
“Relax, and breathe,” he said to me
“It’s begun to end" and raised me upward slowly
I’m propped atop an arbor burial
Like a dead-egg’s nest ready to die
Before I realize to my horror
As the bi-ped's shadow awkwardly trots off
He was a stranger and my friend,
Regardless, Zarathustra's just another guy!
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 12:00 PM UTC
Zarathustra told me "be calm"
And gently folded closed my eyes
“There’s no depth to escape from
There’s no eternal prize.
Your wire was our bridge, dear son
Above the raging current of man”
No, wise one, say it isn't so
Will I balance again
Above the glistening, crystal waters?
Please tell me that it doesn’t end!
“Be calm, dear son, you’ve neither
Lost nor won
Your trials will soon be over”
Why do you carry me into the night?
Why am I in the trees?
It’s cold here, friend!
Don’t leave me here afraid, dark and lonely
“Relax, and breathe,” he said to me
“It’s begun to end" and raised me upward slowly
I’m propped atop an arbor burial
Like a dead-egg’s nest ready to die
Before I realize to my horror
As the bi-ped's shadow awkwardly trots off
He was a stranger and my friend,
Regardless, Zarathustra's just another guy!
"On mine honour, my friend," answered Zarathustra, "there is nothing of all that whereof thou speakest: there is no devil and no hell. Thy soul will be dead even sooner than thy body: fear, therefore, nothing any more!"
The man looked up distrustfully. "If thou speakest the truth," said he, "I lose nothing when I lose my life. I am not much more than an animal which hath been taught to dance by blows and scanty fare."
"Not at all," said Zarathustra, "thou hast made danger thy calling; therein there is nothing contemptible. Now thou perishest by thy calling: therefore will I bury thee with mine own hands."
~Nietzsche
Request permission to use this poem