The Wait
Creation paces up and down,
Even as the ancient falls apart,
Beset upon by hurricanes
And tsunamis;
Where are the sons,
Those divine ones predestined?
Why do they tarry so? Creation asks.
Lead has been switched with gold
By the same fraudulent alchemist
Who sought to counterfeit the signs of Moses,
And validate his own begotten.
Dogs and pigs,
Dressed in princely robes,
Head out to the rivers edge, where they are entertained
Till it is time to turn the music off,
And return to paneled homes.
The king sees all of this,
And his secretaries record it in their notepads,
Careful not to miss a detail when
Adding up the sum of unpaid wages,
For the trumpet has been tuned already.
And still creation waits,
Still it begs for what was promised,
Head bowed in humility
As it prays that the wait will soon be over,
And that it hasn't been in vain.
by Farouk S. Asuni,
Netherlands. Copyright ©2005 |
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