Yellow orb veils Moon…gravitous,
shocking the brains of Mother Earth,
lambs in fields, eyes to the sky,
they live by congenital presage;
the world cannot burn without song-
of dread, that the animals sing;
warnings, fore-warnings… a hole –
revolutions by celestial blackness;
so tell us oh, Seer of travesties
be this light a strange sign of peace,
or an incubus sent from Sheol,
guised in seven shades of temptation;
and hear the lambs cry out like wolves,
they’ve been told they have no Souls,
they’ll always know before we do –
when Death comes to silence our breath.
End stage, the opus is over,
liturgical symbols, nascent;
a revelation to those who know well-
the final chapter and verses of John,
speaking of a Holy Kingdom where-
lambs lay down, but ne’er for slaughter,
for comes time to break bread, n’ pour wine
it be the lambs who will dine with The Host.
©MMXVIX All rights reserved
-Frank James Ryan Jr. /FjR-
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