I had an interesting dream last night.
It was in a darkly-lit house, with an interesting and diverse array of artifacts and art.
I stood outside on the back porch, staring at an assortment of tree tops peeking above a ridge in almost total darkness.
I jumped from the porch to the paved walkway between some bushes on the side of the house, feeling as if I could continue floating through the air if I chose.
I jumped again, and as if following an air current, I randomly floated around the side of the house, nearing an ornate support structure that looked like carved obsidian or of a dark oil finish on wood. the support beam closest to me connected to a totem stacked with animals I did not expect. At the top, my arm brushed by the mouth of a burgundy-black lion, with open jaws that closed slowly, lightly, fluidly upon my left bicep, preventing me from floating away.
The eyes of the lion flared to life in a red glow reflecting on the near-black surface of its skin. With a voice filled with static reminiscent of a cheap Halloween decoration, it spoke to me, "You are eaten by the lion or you eat us." (I recalled this quite well earlier this morning, but alas now it is too faded, so the exact wording is currently lost to me.)
Vaguely aware that I was being given a choice, I stared at the head incredulously and said, "I'd rather eat!" I had intended to say, "I'd rather not do either," but I knew not of what that meant.
"Others choose differently," said the lion's head, as if grudgingly. It spoke further, or the message spoke something further to me, as if it didn't concern eating at all, but a choice to pass the buck. I could not understand its intent, but I knew the being was powerful.
The eyes dimmed, and the mouth opened. I was free to go.
Consequently, the dream fueled another sad attempt at poetry on my part:
The buck stops here.
The purpose is clear.
The door has opened, the way has been shown.
Deliver the truth, highlight the unknown.
Cherish your freedoms, but don't feel ashamed;
Gather heat from the fire, but don't fuel the flame.
A pact is dishonored. Unfairly you are blamed.
In this evil, only the middle-man has gained.
Don't lose composure, be not upset;
the stronger your emotions, more desperately you fret.
The stronger your structure, more resilience you get.
The stronger your intention, greater results you beget.
Strive to change the evils you saw,
lest they rub too long against you, and burn your skin raw.
The buck stops here.
Our purpose is clear.