By J. Randal Matheny © 2015
I looked at the moon, who merely smiled at me,
The stars on velvet never spoke, but winked,
I heard but groans and rustling from the tree.
Beneath the scorching sun I only blinked,
The desert gave no signs, but streams of sweat,
Upon the mountains not a word was inked.
No meaning from the city could I get,
The fevered streets were full of strife and noise,
The shout bereft of love, the silent threat.
A man was a blabbering babe with shiny toys,
In knowledge were words, but lack of worldly sense,
Forced and frenzied clubs replaced their joys.
Bickering neighbors fight for lack of fence,
The harm of nations, flight of refugees,
For graft the halls of power spare no expense.
No purpose be found beneath, across the seas,
The span of years no arching story reveal,
The modern mass of men do as they please.
So do I turn from earth, its death surreal,
To find, in God’s good Book, a place to kneel.
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