Manacled, distraught

The Prisoner sought

Relief in the sea.

He ate hungrily.

The Fish

Queried, decried

“Why do you eat the sea?”

“Hunger,” the Prisoner replied.

“Are you satisfied?”

“No, too salty and thin.”


The Prisoner’s arms withered.

The iron cuffs dropped.

Fins replaced his feet.

Scales formed on his skin.

His eyes became large,

His ears small.

“You look like me,” laughed the Fish

Who laid out

A lavish dish

And beckoned the Prisoner: “Eat.”


“I must create

Or by another be enslaved.”

Said the Prisoner.  “Furthermore,

There are many hooks

All angling, depraved,

Knocking at the door.

If there is a circle for me to go into

Go in yourself

And see how you would do.

Otherwise, retreat.”


The Fish swam off muttering as fish do

While the Prisoner perfected his own stew.

He swam to the beach, cast his net wide

Caught the Fish and more beside.

Out with the tide, catch and release

It’s the way to knowledge

The way to find peace.

What more can the Prisoner

And the Fish have to tell?

More not than likely there is no bell.