Yeshiva University - Masmid Yearbook (New York, NY)

Page 21 text:

They trod onward into the forest all the while feel- ing the lush, moist undergrowth encompass their steps. The land seemed to have a personality of its own in that each footfall produced a different sen- sation. Their euphoric state was further increased as they heard soft strains of music coming from a clearing. First a lute then a lyre then both together. The melody, charming both Pilgrim and Hypocrisy, begantoquickenintempoandintensifiedtoa point of departure from anything they had ever heard. It was as if demons, spirits or other forces of the netherworld had composed and performed it solely forthe pair ' s entertainment.

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Then asked Pilgrim, Where are your credentials, for you pass with such ease? Inadequacy replied, Just as the rest of the world does. Pilgrim persisted, But what have you to show at the gate that you pass through? Inadequacy responded, I do my best to lead a good life. However, I find that I am missing much, and for this, they pity me and let me pass. My needs, then, are, in truth, my credentials. What be these needs of which thou speaketh? asked Pilgrim. Then said Inadequacy, My life is filled with fear and doubt. I have passions bottled within me, yearning to burst forth, but forced to stagnate. I was given a plow and I toiled all the day and parted the earth, but for what purpose? I was given no seed and what grew wild also died, for I was given no water. They placed me on a farm to learn from the master farmers the way that a field should be tendered in order to flourish. But their words proved empty and void of truth. When I sought their counsel, they were as elusive as the morning dew. Then said Hypocrisy to Pilgrim, Nay, heed not his counsel, for his words are those of fools and malcontents. Let us tarry no longer, and be on our way. And I beheld that they contin- ued down the path until they came upon a forest.

Page 22 text:

Twixt the sensations of the undergrowth and the sounds of the music, the remainder of their sen- ses were hardly prepared for what they were next to behold. Drawn by the music to a clearing in the forest, there were wisps of smoke swaying to and fro, not concealing, yet not revealing, the wonders to be found in its midst. With the music everpresent in the background, the mist began to rise, and a form began to appear. First, the most perfectly shaped legs, carelessly laid on a couch of white satin. The more the smoke lifted, the more of this wonderful sight they beheld. And still they gazed and still their wonder grew. Not a sound passed between them, only the music with its frenzied tempo. The result of this metamor- phosis delighted Pilgrim, for there before him lay the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Flung there on the satin couch, her eyes closed, she was the embodiment of all things that were rightwith the world. Her blond hair cascaded over the cushion and onto the ground, now graz- ing her forehead, now gliding along her cheeks. The tresses framed a sculptured face of winging eyebrows, deep set eyes, a nose made for per- fumes and powders and just a hint of a mouth. She slept half childlike and half as a lioness, at- testing to the rhythm of life that beat within her. Her form rising and falling in syncopated time with the music; she was her environment and her environment gave her life. •