A Gift…

A gift… We shall blossom like untold bards

Call it whatever you want, a gift from God,

Or even a curse from the demon king.

As the end of this long road nears, at odds

I am, postulating what karma will bring.

Into the black miasma, is where I’ll wait,

succumbing to the stillness in the air,

Beyond any horizon where light captivates,

and unearthly cataclysms come to bear.

I embrace my time as it consumes my being,

Devoid of all emotions but inner joy.

This world so ends with chaos slowly eating,

and dusty sepulchers in large employ.

I assume this task at hand before I am free,

As time stays unchanging, like the still of night.

With each day, the world finds a new degree

of rousing ways to enhance the human plight.

And I am the proponent of things to come,

Not merely a god of abandoned freedoms.

I question why we continue pounding the drum,

marching to the beat of things we had run from.

I ask for patience, for the clouds to be in order,

For the wardens and angels to have dreamt this world up.

A task deemed so trying as scooping drinking water

From the endless sea with but a single cup

I say, let us indulge in ourselves…Shall we?

In the wanting ecstasies of life that a life requires,

Bereft of the bane of past accords, can we agree,

that the past can bind a man as surely as irons.

I realize now that perhaps the end is not here,

That maybe that page remains blank or unwritten,

In the facets of a multi-foliate rose, my dears,

Beyond the great will, where darkness is unbidden—

I’ll explore the vast layers exuding from you,

Where you and I can become a thought, a desire,

Past your quiddities, where I can find the truth,

rekindle the soul, and maybe tingle the world’s fires.

Discussion must always win over violence,

and discretion is the better part of valor.

Then I will create beauty like after the lightening,

A new world, like a star, brilliant and gathered,—

Composed of myriad thoughts and loving emotion,

And it will hold empathy and forgiveness as vanguard

No less shall be endured and no more unspoken

We shall blossom in untold colors as untold bards—

Each with a note of song that shall encompass us all

Each bar a step towards transcending the errs of Babel

How hubris has stoked a nasty fire like this before,

A reworking may very well need to unravel.

So when the trumpet sounds and the light binds once more

Realize, “You,” as a whole can be the difference,

And I will be here to witness this infant shore,

a precursor for this rebirth’s deliverance.

So now this gift becomes yours from land to sea

Be wary not to feed the consuls a length of steel.

Be grateful for those around you and those yet to be,

Be mindful of the past and what it has yet to reveal.

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

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