We’ll Never Know and Never Care

This empty, gutted ghost shelter – long abandoned –
Stony walls and rusty roof skeleton of a once happy home –
Or was it?
Maybe the father of two drank himself into oblivion –
Maybe the mother of three whored her way to hell –
Maybe the firstborn son ran laughing into prison.
Will we ever really know or ever really care?

Ithuriel’s Spear

Walk the green grass trail with me.
You’ll see the broad savannah bloom
Where flowers feed the swallowtail
Below the bowing valley oak –
Where Ithuriel plants his April spear
And raptors sail an azure sea.

It’s here I’d like to lie and sleep
Until I hear the angel shout –
Then fly above the winter wind
And killing summer drought.