arrogant yet fearful
watching Isis string beads
colours he does not understand
although he mined the stones
shipped somewhere else in boxes.
straining past Isis
her magic hands tuning her strings
eye music, colour sounds
man-wonder, power lost
almost blind on an unknown level.
Isis smiles over beady shine.
Her string is strung, a mistress piece
for women who see her light
and understand who really rules.
Oedipus remains lost among his master kind.
(A Few Lines in Passing)