konya the shepherd (for lenny kaye)

(The following is excerpted from Babel by Patti Smith, G.P. Putnam's Sons, N.Y.)

this is the story of konya the shepherd. the land was parched and dry and the throats of the women were dry and folding. the sheep had long since been slaughtered and no lamb had escaped ritual. none, that is, save shamsa the black. the people had given up their will to dream their desire for prayer and even the need for visitation. only the arched necks of scourged believers, the pop eyes of the lookout station and the ancient holy men in suspension remained. relics. that was all.

but the radiant rhythum of change...potential change...the reign of words that whetted the palates and plates of man... the charge of light that electrified sky and eye...days and nights that made the earth moist and caressed the mouths of flowers... dew on the lips of creation...the expectant pouts of wet and static children...all were going...literally gone.