Those seated on the floor of this cavern,
cross-legged like Indians,
watching a blockbuster video on the wall,
can only see the imitation of the perfect Idea
of Liberty,
the shadow of the Statue – an image;
hanging over their shoulder is the light,
but they cannot turn towards it.
Still those who travel to these shores from afar
may have a glimpse of it
in New York Harbor –
majestic, dazzling, lightening the world


(like a trick of gods – the Form,
yet hollow – a Trojan horse,
tabernacle of so many perfect ideas,
most feared cortege of silhouettes
that at night sneak out and rape
Lady Liberty in the dark.)

I believe, there are also those with a passion
for triangles, those who dedicate the nights
to contemplating the brightest thing of all –
the Supreme Idea of the Good.
(Apparently they are to be found
mostly in catacombs.)

©Elena Malec, California, July 13, 1997