The Eager Arms of Consequence
Should you ever meet
a mind that is invariable
a disposition so sweet
but with the potential of destruction,
would you do what I,
you would
to inspire the fruit of imbalance
in that soul?
If you were me,
you would know
would have compassion
he came to me
in a moment of gold
the glittering of the sun
upon the wind
and in that moment
the ultimatum suffices
To be there in that second,
the world is born again
the earth is imploded,
and in that,
his devout purpose
there was hope;
a beacon of light
shines for that, it glows
in the perpetual night.
So he wondered,
if that's what he needed
then why shouldn't he concede
he didn't
know why
birds and butterflies
the works of nature and evanescence
pulln together by neat little stitches
the hand of mother nature
the nurture of the wild
and the lone cry of the wolf.
I told him that,
that in the end
one shall win;
fiend or friend…
and morosely the shallows cry
what dust and time could not defy
the never-ending once again
perpetual hunger and
inevitable thirst for power.
Might you ask,
ask how he must
the needlessly profound task
you shan't
I will spin the threads of wisdom
the tradition I trust you will uphold,
you shall pass along
to the hands of the future
the fresh mind of hope
and to the softness and innocence
the eager arms of consequence.