GRACE
(by Earl Fecteau)
Modern man
is no friend to silence,
and an enemy of time as well.
He puts not God before distraction
and if he comes to God,
it's with senses swelled.
And I am one
of these modern men,
who is come before Him to admit;
I'm not experienced in listening,
to anything but counterfeit.
Nor have I found, the white-caned truths
that an un-blessed sight entombs.
And I came because, a seed that lands,
upon the path, is doomed.
A single seed, on a barren path,
a naked Adam, compromised.
The raven's quarry to spy and snatch,
when he flies over, with that piercing eye.
But a guided blade from Eden's gate
angled upward to meet the sun.
And curled the rays of heaven's light,
searing the raven's eye to shut.
"I'm blinded", cried the raven,
but the seed it heard him not.
"It's time", intoned the dust below,
"to bore into the heart".
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