POEM LXVII: “JOSEPH CAMPBELL”

When you start looking for it, you see it everywhere.

A young girl leaves home despite being forbidden by her mother.
A sorcerer hides his soul in seven places.
The turtle brings some mud up from beneath the waves to begin building the world.

It repeats itself again and again and again.

A traveler encounters a trickster who offers three riddles.
A rich young prince pretends to be a poor young man.
Death rows his boat across a river.

It’s not really about the trickster, or the sorceror, or the turtle, or the mud.

It’s about you and me.
It’s about leaving your front door.
It’s about telling your mother-in-law to step off.

It’s the oldest game of cats-cradle there is, this business of being human; the story is just how we pass the string.

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