Leaving the Attic
I left my mind tangled in the cob-web of my attic
filled with dust-covered books
to stroll to the basement of my coal-stained thoughts...unarmed
but still a witness to it all
though my searching eyes be plucked from history's read
they would still reveal their scenes of death
burned into my orbs by the raging fires of war
dripping with the blood of man
that wash the earthen ground from tribal hate
It is from this ugliness I seek rest
in the joined meadows of Pangaea
where I can escape into its shadowed realms of shade
deep in the forest where I hear the wolf call
finding it is the echo of my soul
spilling through the crumbled pages of time
where I've come to cry out in the wilderness
and witness the suffering that flows towards ancient shores
carrying the dead bodies of the innocent
left to decay by the worthless throne of men
who wish to be King
It's where I scream about the politics of men
from dust-covered books
where I can discuss life with Plato
analyze the traps of Alexander
walk with Ceasar on the Nile or join him crossing the Rubicon
as I study the Anthropological Thought of Man
my soul yearns for still waters
so I retreat back to my attic
to be lead away from the dry winds of men
that flow from their hellish lies that makes me tired
so I reach for the poems of Gibran and rest
3/15/18
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2018
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