It is not an easy thing
this atmosphere
of expectation
this arena of belief
coliseum's of suffering
over relief
ghosts of intention
the slow slide
of a mind unfolding
the pathway littered
with soured tests
a glancing penance
of unrest
entering backward
lest we forget
I'm the imperfect son
the next one
the undone
the lost
the found
the turned around
the love bound
the upside down
the weeping man
head in the sand
spoiling the plan
loves all, not just some
the whole, not just one
The cardinal thrums
here come the drums
A fee and a fie,
a foe and a fum
Rata tat tat
drum drum drum
I sense
my own reckoning
my own truth beckoning

God help me

© 2016 Mark Richard Prime


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