The world was spinning gaily when the sun refused to set,
And all the artists were battling their own windmills,
The creaking door was closing though they all cried out: Not yet!
Still believing they could fight off all the ills,
The painter painted pictures that staved off the doom and gloom,
The composer wrote a song that we all sang,
The poet composed his verses in another secret room
As all thoughts of love just vanished with a bang,
But nobody saw or heard the man shedding his killing tears,
And nobody praised his worth through all the endless clinging years.
The walls were standing solid when the shackles were removed,
And the lost ideals deserted the human zoo,
The shadows grew and told us there was nothing to be proved
Even if the doubts were seen as true,
The lovers loved their wilderness and threw down all their kisses,
The hermit danced alone on top of his mountain,
The messenger flew up and down and gathered the near-misses
While the shed tears gave birth to the mystical fountain,
But nobody cared enough to help the man face-down on the ground,
And nobody sang his praises since he barely uttered a sound.
The wolves were howling wildly when the darkness came to be,
And the gardens stood their ground in a final stand,
The forest whispered secrets that we knew could set us free
As we waited for the hope to take our hand,
The singers sang the high notes and became a heavenly choir,
The Angel smiled and tried to call our bluff,
The chosen few drifted nearby then vanished into the mire,
Hoping the misty dream would be enough,
But nobody declared the dying man to be a genius,
And nobody really noticed him since he hardly made a fuss.
The church was filled with silent tears as the last rites were begun,
And the grieving crowd clung to the weeping walls,
The sermons told the whole world that his race had now been run,
As the chanting boatman rowed to heed our calls,
The living lived and praised the sun while dancing in the light,
The dying wept and ate the poisoned seeds,
The liberated soul rose up to illuminate the night,
Knowing that the truth had met its needs,
Now nobody ignored the lost man as they stood and simply cried,
And yet nobody had brought him flowers until he’d lived, and died.
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 