seance on a watermelon

Deep green on deeper green
the heft of a verdant globe
a mystery awaits discovery
as the thin blade splits the shell into a seam
and the wet redness so inviting
succulence for the eyes
amidst a throng of expectant young palates
it is an urgency that begs a pause--

for a ripe and sweet melon
is an occasion for philosophy.

So the state of the world
descends upon the room
as the sure blade parcels red delicacy
a lesson in whom we trust, and what we ought to be.

It is the fortune borne by gray hairs on my chin
and  furrowed brow that now
I am a fount of wisdom gained through pain.

So I say:
the world is full
of liars and cheats, not trusted
as much as the worth of a spitted seed;
their need is power and an endless want haunts their eyes.

You my gathered legacy
must remember; You are what you must be...
true to echoes that come when you whisper to your heart
You must be the man  and  You must  be the woman
that fills the mirror within your soul

Glad eyes above smiling lips
as now, upon the generous stage
on which a purposeful life is played,
the melon is so much sweeter.