A rising on Valentines

Resur – e – rection

 

Four AM Valentines morn, I awoke,

stiff as a board – stands a mighty oak,

 

reaching up to heavenly skies – empty –

whishing upon a star that would not be

 

a heavenly body for me – that pink cloud,

sweet, delicious – ecstasy wrapped in a shroud.

 

A surprise !, standing against the ravages of time,

- for a long, long time – this gift with no place to go

for deep down – in my heart – I have come to know,

that upon this tree, you have no desire to climb

nor upon this mighty oak come and take a rest

and maybe find, that doing so, could be the best

 

wood, the wood that greeted me, will never greet you,

will never be a pillar you wish to climb upon.

 

To pulp – my wood, this mighty oak – becomes, gone.

What does an old man find ?, - when realizing so few

 

moments arise that he might sing a glorious song

to the goddesses “ Isis ”, “ Ishtar ” – not a clue.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

February 15^th 2007