The Power Of Narrative And Story

Part one

Don’t write what shouldn’t be there,
like film noir with carrots.
Do, however, take chances.

So I took a chance and
spoke with a demon
who calls himself Yeshiva.
Not his real name.
He won’t tell me his real name.
When he declined to tell me his name
I said,
What shall I call you then?
Yeshiva, he said.
So, tell me, Yeshiva,
Why are you here?
I’ve come to leaven the bread.
And why do you look like a demon?
No answer.
Why are you standing on a pedestal?
Because I am higher than you.
What was that huge crash in my dream that led me here?
It was designed to bring you to me.
Yeshiva is dressed in red and black.
He certainly looks like a demon.
However, I do not detect demonic intent.
What if I’m wrong?

I meet Yeshiva the next day.
Again, he stands on a pedestal.
He says he is here to teach me,
to guide me,
to help me grow,
to help me rise.
(Now I understand the meaning of “leaven the bread”.)
I sit at his feet.
He disappears.
I look out the windows into
the blackness of night.
Morning glories of diverse colors
grow and blossom around me
and throughout the room
while Caveman, long dead,
appears by my side,
crawls into my lap,
and purrs.