The Language That Fails

The Language that fails

Humor, the most profound and the subtlest of all utterance
is the first to offer itself for martyrdom.
The jester's tears hide behind a self-reflexive laughter.
The laughter and the martyr,
the body and the shadow
will walk the path,
an intrepid journey.
Like the divine lovers
inhabiting a lonely sphere,
they separate only when pierced through the heart:
the heart where love chose to wear the garb of irony,
the heart which knew the futility of reason.

The jester needs a Socratic interlocutor.
The tears fall from a different realm, and as they fall,
they change, and  what falls on the ears, is only laughter--
a laughter that was meant to numb the pain and fear.
Alas, to be a jester is a fateful choice
in a world where languages , alien and dense,
are locked in a conflict for ascendency.