My Castle

I invite few people to my castle.
Fewer yet, do I ever let in.

Those I do are often offended
by the curious absence of things.

Others hear as the flutter of angels:
the sound of small sparrows’ wings.

And, yes, I am sitting here naked,
not yet an inanimate thing.

“Unclothed” is the prime state for learning.
So the gods sit with heads in their hands.

In this state we are all contemplating,
like Plato,
the temporary condition of man.