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?

Nay…

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.

www.Jallenwilson.com