Midnight Dialogue

— It's a funny place to be in, I guess?
— What is he, like thirty? He's still in the middle.
— You bet it is. Some would say he is early.
— Why isn't he on a mountain or maybe in an ashram?
— That's silly. He is no ascetic. Besides, there's a woman.
— I don't think she is real.
— You're half-right, she is something else.
— So what exactly is she?
— A constellation.
— Oh, so like a goddess?
— Like a metaphor.
— That's not very precise.
— Language isn't.
— How did he get it anyway?
— Music and love, apparently.
— That's absurd. Where is the practice?
— It appears he improvised one.
— And where did he learn it?
— Like I said, the stars guided him through.
— He can't read their language.
— No, but he listened. And she's always there.
— Who is?
— Wisdom.
— She fell.
— She had to, I suppose. Moreover, he also did.
— His fall is hardly equivalent.
— Maybe so, but it is her fractal.
— But why her and not the sun as men know it?
— He suspects men and loves truth. They're much alike.
— Why write anything about it? It is unorthodox but it isn't new.
— It appears meaningful. To us, it reads like an update.
— I see. Is this a joke?
— Some do laugh. But others can't, no.
— And you?
— I'm also curious to know.