Truth To Power

Old School


I forged the nail that pierced the carpenter's hand
and ran amok amongst the frenzied mass,
extolled the bland;
found hate in the meek;
built a shrine to the crass.

I wagered blood in a frozen, dawn-lit field
and stood in awe amidst the blazing webs of diamond lace that
anchored every rush,
it seemed.
Part of the hush;
part of the push;
part of the dreamed.

I stood above a crib to watch a sleeping child
and felt the turning of the Earth beneath my feet.
In my head I saw the storm beyond the shuttered pane,
and for an instant glimpsed the vanquished
and the victor meet.

It is a spinning ball, of course,
which we traverse - and flounder in a rage of self;
aghast against the tick-tock-tick of time.
A truth is in the learning that we do, indeed we do.
But power lies within the bond
that's made between your hand
and mine.