The Soul of the World
The accordion rhythm of the birds together in flight is noticed overhead.
Usually it goes without notice.
Her hand glides the long bangs from her face again and again.
She is on her way somewhere.
We are all on our way somewhere.
The automobiles glide past each other dangerously without any fear
On a grid that signifies mobility and global nexus.
The symbolic cross on the church steeple is in contrast to its backdrop.
The Lord our Savior will one day come marching in on those clouds.
Won’t He?
Friends part ways after light discussion and a laugh -
In Jerusalem, in Rome and in a parking lot in America.
It’s nice.
Food is abundant here and scarce there.
A dictator's statues come down with ropes and screams from the crowds.
The smell of revolution is sweet but always disappoints -
Souring.
Cigarettes, booze, heroin, designer pills, promiscuity -
The dirty treats of humanity.
Wonders of addiction reach the four corners.
Whether misery is common or banned, it’s in your mind spreading or detracting.
It’s also circumstances.
There are no guarantees.
The dead miss this place for some reason.
My soul rises up against my animal instincts,
Yet I love animals still,
Creatures immune from ruining things, devastators - not.
Wine turns to vinegar, blood turns to ash.
Yet the human race has yet to cave in.
The train stops in my town, the roads sprawl, there is a web of electricity, gas and water.
It’s a commodity and a sign of a good life.
I want to fly to work one day.
Teachers spread knowledge to kids about geometry and time and old books.
Some will learn and behold truth.
Usually what goes on before is absorbed in a way it dwells a bit but is mostly forgotten.
The past ends.
And the future is anticipated.
One day I will miss this place too,
Until Jesus flies in on the clouds.
Usually it goes without notice.
Her hand glides the long bangs from her face again and again.
She is on her way somewhere.
We are all on our way somewhere.
The automobiles glide past each other dangerously without any fear
On a grid that signifies mobility and global nexus.
The symbolic cross on the church steeple is in contrast to its backdrop.
The Lord our Savior will one day come marching in on those clouds.
Won’t He?
Friends part ways after light discussion and a laugh -
In Jerusalem, in Rome and in a parking lot in America.
It’s nice.
Food is abundant here and scarce there.
A dictator's statues come down with ropes and screams from the crowds.
The smell of revolution is sweet but always disappoints -
Souring.
Cigarettes, booze, heroin, designer pills, promiscuity -
The dirty treats of humanity.
Wonders of addiction reach the four corners.
Whether misery is common or banned, it’s in your mind spreading or detracting.
It’s also circumstances.
There are no guarantees.
The dead miss this place for some reason.
My soul rises up against my animal instincts,
Yet I love animals still,
Creatures immune from ruining things, devastators - not.
Wine turns to vinegar, blood turns to ash.
Yet the human race has yet to cave in.
The train stops in my town, the roads sprawl, there is a web of electricity, gas and water.
It’s a commodity and a sign of a good life.
I want to fly to work one day.
Teachers spread knowledge to kids about geometry and time and old books.
Some will learn and behold truth.
Usually what goes on before is absorbed in a way it dwells a bit but is mostly forgotten.
The past ends.
And the future is anticipated.
One day I will miss this place too,
Until Jesus flies in on the clouds.