Last Chariot (+1)

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 the night has a thousand eyes

 

The music fades, past dance is done

  the future’s siren cries

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 all prophecy would say

 

Your father deaf, your mother blind

 bequeathed of both you pray

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 last chariot at the gate

 

New flames have come, the beating drums

 the lots have cast your fate

 

Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

 one choice to leave or stay

 

Deception fore, with lies behind

  —time killing either way

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

 

 

Now Heaven Shone

 

At eighteen,

 I thought that I could write my way to heaven

 I’d waltz right in, announce my name, and sit

 down on its throne

 

At twenty-five,

 I sat in jail to rot in isolation

 my freedom gone, my will deformed,

 but worst of all alone

 

At thirty-five,

 I thought that I could write my way to riches

 the screenplay bombed, all doors were closed,

 and wounds there freshly mined

 

At forty-eight,

 I met a man who told me I was lost

 “By Looking Out The Words Won’t Come,

 Your Truth You’ll Never Find…”

 

By fifty-five,

 my path was set—all trails converged as one

 the entrance closed, the exit marked,

 a road of denser stone

 

By sixty-eight,

 all verse within, the lines reset to music

 the darkness gone, my words set free

   —all light now heaven shone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)