The Sleeping Sky

CATEGORY

I fight the wars of yesteryear,
In times before the fire,
At night the scores are best to hear,
From trumpet’s horn acquir’d.

I saw the seventh seal removed,
Once or twice in dream,
But now it seems what seemed behooved,
My certain death did mean.

I look around in early day,
For signs upon the ground,
Then felt the whispering winds which kiss'd,
 Yet heard not but a sound.

I’d freed the genie from the lamp,
I’d heard the raven’s word,
I’d gleaned the sands from speaking seas,
Found things it said absurd.

Until I woke the sleeping sky,
Whirring hurricanes in its maw,
With its great big smile, and one bright eye,
Trickled words, I do recall,

In fattest, wettest raindrops,
Heavy with the weight of tears,
Dripped the saddest story twas ever told,
Right into mine ears.

Told me, “Close thine eyes, and listen well,
To my dark and lovely lies.
For the more you search for your Christian hell
 THe closer to your prize.”

Such evil words the tree did speak,
I turned to run away,
But for years more ‘neath darkened sun,
I felt compelled to stay.

I awoke one day to the clouds quite gone,
To the smiling sun a-missing,
And when I listened to the song,
I found no snakes a-hissing!

I was free at last, I do declare!
Though knowing not how or why...
Thus I told myself, with a wondrous stare,
"Goodbye to the sleeping sky."