I could write of wind through the willows

            and the heron hunting on my pond

I could sing of wondrous wonders

            pulling mankind along

I could strum a harmony gently

            with the melody hidden inside

or hold my grandson Edmund

            when he wakes and starts to cry

I could speak of truth and justice

            though no one ever hears

I could give my life for widows

            awaiting Jezebel’s cheers

I could dream that things were different

            that black was really white

I could latch onto a cause

            and join a tyrant’s fight

I could give to those in need

            who take, then waste away

I could give the fruit of life

            and watch another play

I could spend my life amassing wealth

            to satisfy my greed

I could feed the lusts of my own self

            and drown my every need

I could fear God and keep his precepts

            for this is the duty of man

I could stand before him daily

            attending his command

I could still the sea inside me

            awaiting heaven’s peace

and then, only then,

            will my anxious turmoil cease.

(c) August 6, 2007 by Glenn Hall