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VENUTIAN MINSTREL

This gilded lute o’ magic

Born upon spheres o’ creation,

I reach for thee when hosts turn o’ tragic

Inequities usurpers o’ loving emancipation.

Universal children; now gather rown

Millenniums past; the rock of ages

Tiny winged pixies arch silk light & sound

Innocuous reverberations, the spinal tap of sages.

Percussion inaudible melts hearts of steel

A solemn conscious chill now reigns supreme,

The cherubim now too hold fast and kneel

A second note rendering mind & matter clean,

The third and final chord now is at hand

Total silence ensues, then the crescendo a’ wailing,

Skies raining blood; suffering demi-gods last stand

Trumpets join in, a new dawn a’ haling,

Awake children, awake! No longer will heart forsake

Hurry come see the land without buildings or borders,

Put hand upon heart where no fear can partake,

Nor dis-ease, envy, greed, nor war or dis-order,

All are provided for, every specie, by our new mother,

From this gilded lute an epiphany tendered,

So grab those eager hands o’ sister, o’ brother

And sing children, sing! To souls sweet surrender,

 With the thirst of bondage, drink Gods precious love,

Become intoxicated; you are thrice emancipated,

Now go and teach them how to love with the intensity of the Father!

H.J. Cruz

4/28/07