A Simple Man:
Your lips foretold to me of this approaching time,
as they spoke of curses in the dark passages of rhyme.
Yet, I never felt or saw of the world of which you so freely speak.
Nor have I felt the movement of the dark spirits you so desperately seek.
For I am but a plain and simple man
Who has put his faith in the Master's hand.
I know not of this blackness, nor of its secret need,
As I have chosen to follow and no longer in apathy lead.
For those ways were errant on my part,
and led me to the pity of an unruly heart.
So, tell me…
How is it you say?
That my words of light are misdirected
and ring of false hope for a better day.
Yet, unto me you speak of curses
brought forth from poems of death.
Must I acquiesce to this buggery
And fall victim to your charade?
For I am but a simple man
Who may only point out the darkness
So that some may see…
Oh, that some may see
The nearing light which comes forth
from the Masters perfect plan.
J. Allen Wilson © 2004
Many there be which say of your soul
There is neither hope nor heaven…
just the darkness of deaths hold.