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Soon is the time when blankets will be tucked under chins moonlight will wash over frosted trees. the clinking sound of empty milk bottles early in the pre-dawn air as life begins to stir from slumber moving into day. I find myself on bended knees I hear myself say. Soon, as if a prelude to the words that God might pray There are no whispers now this thin reed life bends so slowly still I long somehow to capture the sound of fleeting footsteps with my quill as if contained it could be reigned in, caught up, but not so brief encased So soon the memories are all erased We all ask for it Breathed between the breath seeking life fearing death But soon, so soon. This lasting night with fingers stroking hearts and minds and souls provoking will arrive. Born upon our backs and taking all the gifts enjoyed by living inspiration motivation expiration All nations of our weak vocabulary’s trace marked in lines on every weary face Our friend invites us in for tea Once or twice to taste you see And every night we sleep and in our slumber seem so meek Arise Goliath, pantheon of prayered Gods Unhook your coats move to where your Father trods The path called Destiny awaits we, of little choice, are lost, who hesitates For we are the Trolls of our fears listening deep with forefathers ears marching on and ever on the slippery and the shining to a dusk and to a dawn for soon comes the now for which we wait A crashing cow thrashing now within each moon’s arising And we upon our books rely all tears of yesterday defy sums upon our sums surmising until at last we die Soon the poured tea gone all laments stored by generation classified and categorized organized and strategized remain our lasting stain. What have we really learned when all that burned was one brief match? A scratch upon the pimpled ass of life. It is not one It is not many It is all there is and soon approaching the collected neglecting the infected collecting the neglected reproaching the protected So many useless/useful things surrounded by your view, instilled with meaning, bought and stored by you. and soon The pillow will seem softer now life filled with fuzzy logic, not so harsh. The hurters seem more hurt. The rushed more passive in their passing. The garish ghosts just sheets of starch. A rain that washes from the inside now. and soon Thy Will be done and soon i will become.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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Date: 11/18/2020 11:23:00 AM
So many deep a profound ideas here, Vernon. I liked all you said and the original, unique way you present it. Being a man of faith, I particularly loved the final 3 lines. Also appreciate your rhymes and wordplay. Enjoy your day! ~ John
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