Soldier, poet, dramatist
Father of tragedy
You
Changed the
Way we smile.
Mathematical in its
Elements.
Deductions and
axiomatic
Postulating. A
Geometry known not
prior to
That parallel
Point,
But one
Line may
Pass
Through
Biblical in breadth
A diaspora’s been met
Sowing seeds
Distant far
As close as man
may be
To apotheosis
We’ve yet to see
Classic beauty
Sunbelt crush
Serenity of a
Steadied poise
Lost to
the
Collapsing praise
Time knows not
What values one puts upon
the individual ray, forgetting
About the center’s
bubbling blaze—
Throughout history
Man has pushed
forgiveness
To its gravest ends
Testing what
Could be rationally
Abused before
Hollowed ends
Accrue
Humanity is a contrast
economy
We strive to breathe
descending views
what it means to
understand
the opposing schools
Recklessly
We’ve pandered
For centuries long
Creating pacts and
promises
Have been
Predicated upon
deceitful hues
That wither, wither,
fray
We have
Our communion
And yet, we have our
Betrayals, and they are
felt ever the more
inherent, when composed
unto the flesh, and
unrestrained when composure only lives
yet, we lived,
albeit in frenzy’s first breath
taken,
amongst the soul,
of the undisciplined, molting clear those spectrums
oft abused
By timelines, we learn
to merge into one, into
The Blur that forges a
definition, into
That which has yet
begun…
from the sun, to the
sea and the sky to the tide
No matter the context,
in spite of the ride, the lengths and shackles yet unfettered about
malnutrition’s feet, deposed by all the deposits of those underachievement’s
we’ve ever learned to make… and yet we’ve always understood how to take aim,
and that has to count for something, right?
Mankind has ever found
itself as the child of a God, how does one live up to that shadow?
So, just to cast their
own beacon of distinction, we often abuse the grace of our father, we often
stray from the generous path plotted fresh for our soles alone, and instead of
living in luxury’s shadow, we chose to bathe in the cold showers of absence,
where we so eagerly became
The makers of rain, irrational
beasts
Amidst the moistened shade
And yet…
We meditate
Upon mentally
Equipping ourselves
To deal with what
comes our way
To follow nature
As does the stem
To its thorn, is
To disseminate
Good and bad
From the indifferences
In-between the dark
and the gray
Run, ragged tryin’
To catch grace upon wings once craved
But these were not
intended for
Man. Bull. Lion
Egg. Coiled—
Cracking, splits
Ticking, cloaks we
mask
Through beards untamed.
until
Hands cease from cross
Again
Falling
Deep
Into
A
rece
Ssion
we
Simply
can
Not
return
To
the grammar that’s been
Given
to us upon
Our
births…and we run
Away, frightened by the photo albums
taken from our father’s early days, brimstone, we’ve seen it in his eyes, we’ve
smelt it upon his breath, touched it on his hands
Yet,
because of our irrational fear
We
forget
Warmth
is not reserved for hell alone
And
No
matter
What
we’ve done
Our
father
Will
Always
Accept
us back
Warmly,
in his arms,
The
truth can never be rescinded
Not
by man or any other beasts we may encounter for advice
Yet,
Just that alone, makes one wonders
Why
do we seek advice from outside sources
When
the wealth of the world exists within our father
