Canto II
Zephyrs and Hot Air
c. 2019, Olan L. Smith
Hence, I shall whisper words in spiritual force
Upon the zephyrs of my wing-ed muse, all creation
Stands still in the wake of the gods of heaven.
I will fight to my last breath to know my life, until
You take its celebrations away, and I but a blank slate
To write upon once more. I am sad, and I am hurt of the
Wickedness of lost times, but alas, dear Lord, I am at
Your whim. Oh, holy guardian angel, the one I know
So well, you who woke me from slumber to find myself.
You, above all creatures of the divine, keep account of
Days, of my legacy across this globe. You, dear Alinda, gave
Me hope where there was only emptiness, a directionless
Beacons competing with the sun. You showed me that in
Nook of life; the soul is brightest. You wrote me wisdom
That far exceeds all life. You taught me, listen to the living
Bards of this time, and from the graves, those who still
Speak to the listeners, "Stand up and show yourself; show
Your talents before all. The time is ripe; the berry succulent
And tasty. Eat, for eternity begins now!" Read the poets
That live and breathe! Consider their virtues, for they
Will not pass this way again. Read, also, the words of folklore
And understand they were you, in times before, writing to you
In the present, and in far future. Truth-is-truth in any time,
Justice-is-justice in any realm; it is the welder of power
Whose ax beheads the just and unjust, at his whim? Sulfur rain
Knows no right. Will the Naked King rescue you in this hour?
YOU ARE READING
Poets of Life
PoetryThis is a epic poem broken up into cantos and cover the inner voice of my poetic mind. The cover photo belongs to the author, Olan L. Smith, and all copyrights apply.
