I just read The Story of Wong Pao and the Minstrel from Kai Lung's Golden
Hours. Here is my response…

I, in a time past, often dreamt of a fog-covered world, seen from above, with
little peaks peaking out from the clouds.

On these mountaintops were men and women - hands raised and waving to each
other. Each had a golden band around their brow, with a chain leading back down
into the mists.

They fascinated me. I would ponder for hours on how they reached such heights.
I even wanted to be one of them, waving to others on these high levels.

Once, I even got a gold band placed upon my brow, and I started climbing. But
something on my back kept me from gaining my balance, and I would constantly
slide down the mountain.

Eventually, by virtue of my stubborn ego and pride, I poked my nose above the
clouds for the first time. And it stank and was cold. I was dismayed. How could
these people stand to stay? I tried to run down the mountain, to flee. But my
band had a golden chain like the rest, and at the other end of the chain was a
multitude of people, people who I had not noticed, who comprised the mountain.
They would pull my chain and yank me back as I tried to flee.

Now the climbing became an imperative, if I stopped, the people poked me with
sticks. If I tried to take the golden band off, the people would howl and
become a raging mob with fire ready to burn me. I was dying from all the burns
and holes in me.

Then, a day came, an explosion that was beyond comprehension. It rocked the
mountain. It knocked me from my feet and into a pool of water that refreshed my
wounds. Water, that once stilled, showed my reflection. And I saw what I had
forgotten. I had wings. The reason for my bad balance climbing.
I took the golden bands off and I flew.

And noticed what I had missed the first time of my dream - that the people
chained to the mountains were waving, not to each other, but to me and the
others like me, who were flying.


–
Joseph Franklyn McElroy
Cor[porat]e [Per]form[ance] Art[ist]