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)