A parable Part 1

There is a boat, sitting upon the shades of amber that fractalate upon the water
There are reeds and a bold heron, it looks out upon its domain of the marsh
and fish part its lips, as it looks upon Beirut

It has one leg, to rage against the dead fist of gravity
the other is mangled
and bent
and flops up and down in the water

The toad looks upon the heron, and is jealous,
It sees its riches (fish, long legs) 
and its breath is as a fiery incense such as myrrh
it looks upon its head of hair and its fine clothes
and raises its fist in anger

The flies torment its bosom, its hair is unparted
the grease that covers its globby body is old and dry
an Arab plays the violin
in the sweltering desert heat
and the toad is aflame with torment
aghast and afraid that the vultures will mock its passing

It looks out of a beady eye, yellow like frozen sap
with a black pea in the middle
and it sees life,
its enemy

Enter Jealousy

"Toad, you are parched and dry, surely the heron is hogging the pond?"
The toad ponders
"Yes"
"the water is mine as well"
as a well is to a village

Toad looks at Heron and is envious, and is filled with greed and lust of wealth and power

Imagine I in a palatial pond, Imagine me, a heron!
with a beak with girth and length
and a mighty wrathful beak
with wings that tame the sky
and wings that put the air to labour
and eyes that see over the marshes
and eyes that see into the souls of others
and a bright white jacket of feathers
and legs, stilts to float upon
the marshes