Night's in the neighbourhood,
As the sun's gone to bed.
A great work it's done,
But the glory another set to seize.
Out of toils and sweats the sun shines;
For no tolls and sweets but the earth to appease.
And the glowing, the moon and the stars, must release.
This journey's sure -
What the moon receives can but give with ease.
In dependency her potentials to loss in maze;
For she can never give more that's squeezed.
If in health the sun fails,
In emaciation the moon falls,
And must die of disease.
A plague in the night season is stolen glory -
King Herod knows the tease.
Woe unto thee that arrives thy destination in another's definition!
From him that's gone ahead,
Learn and better your meditation;
To him that blaze your path for knowledge,
Leave a good scroll to lean for vindication.
But on pressures we must feed;
Thereof are the nourishments of life towards perfection.
What ails you, O man, that -
Amongst us quietness of spirit is taken for coyness,
A bold heart token for headstrong,
Our friendliness with the weaker vessels likened to promiscuity,
And gentility suckled for cowardice?
Who shall solo while this noise persists?
The eye of your heart must see better things than sorrow.
For it's a divinity in this stinking humanity.
Even Joseph knows the secret.
We're but a good measure in the crowd,
Only a handful can feel the cloud.
Man's given to metamorphosis;
On what he dwells breeds more mental forces.
Though, this Jordan we must cross,
But the mantle we seek not of Elijah.
But in making legends of mediocres,
The sons of the earth have us in dismay.
Now the journey's awry.
Of the mind we feed is Babel.
A seeing eye we seek not,
A hearing ear we keep lost;
And cease not to live on nostrum.
Is there a man who's criticised but pleasures in mockery?
In high places shall he count
Should he treasures not in trickery.
Ah, humility we must imbibe!
A lack could send even a king to the school of mentality,
For a seven year course for immunity.
King Nebuchadnezzar's an old boy.
© Abel John 2011
