• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 12

A Sphinx, Methinks

There's a Dream wrapped up in my head,
even though I'm awake (or at least out of bed).
It's a yang and yin, caught in the act,
interlocked in a fond embrace,
gazing at one another's face--
while across the burning desert waste
a Man comes with Himself as the fact
of the Riddle that rends so many to shreds.
Nevertheless, he shouldn't feel too blest,
get too cocky and thump on his chest--
since without the legacy
bestowed upon his race
by Picasso and Sophocles,
he'd never have had such success.