A Babe's Discontent

A Babe's Discontent                       July 30, 2008 (Revised October 18, 2013)

As he dies in her eyes, the angels wail,

The gray clouds explode from Hell,
Shooting rainy bullets, so deadly,
Upon her first newborn babe.
Lovers will unite 'cross wayward seas,
Yet a dam barricades the mum,
Separating her from her babe;
The babe, angst-ridden, cannot reach, see,
And the mum appears blind, happy
Sans her firstborn babe nestl'd
Against her bosom which begat Life.

Cart'd off to a mental jungle, a frenzy,
The babe is told it disappoints all

O'er speakers so loud, so vibrant, yet bleak,
'Tis infinite if you only knew o' its reach.

The babe is but a mere wretch
Amid a mysterious wild a-fire,

Manifesting head, which begets snow,
And so too arrives Prophesy
And her seasons, total'd in four:

Little will he know the fruits winter bears.

Seasons pass as doth the pages o' a calendar;
The babe, now a man, must tarry onward.
Full o' life, still young at heart; and
The mother doth bear the brunt of their wrath;
Gray she be, the clock strikes Midnight,

And Father Time's hand doth grab
Her soul's clammy hands; 'tis Death.

Let it be time for all seasons to pass,

For the man and his posterity sail the skies!