Lost among Monkeys

Willian, seven, wanders the gallery
As if he is walking through poetry.
He is lost, and his mother is frantic,
But the art is calling out to him like
Soft ripples gliding over still waters.

The art shows him how the sun creates its
Gold and how the queen of the clouds descends
Onto silver terraces where tigers
Play the lute and the phoenixes dance the
Ancient, regenerating flamenco.

He presents himself to three carved monkeys,
And asks each one where he should be going.

The first, with gentle look, says dreamily.
Pass the city ruins where the road ends,
Where the bears and wild boar play in the woods,
Where the flowers lure you and the rocks ease you,
Where clouds darken, and the day swiftly ends.

The second speaks gravely. You must search
The woods for the stone gate your forebears built.
It was broken by the God of Thunder.
Go without fear past the sphinx-like shadows,
Randomly cast by the angel of death.

The third whispers, just walk on. It seems like
Only yesterday that you passed by here.
You smiled, blinked and continued your singing.
Some imagined they heard the bubbling brooks
But I heard pipes summoning your spirit.