Ther Vine Keeper

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Saturday, April 2, 2011

Bet on Black . . .

Bet on Black

the fields are empty
the flowers are gone
the children have stopped dancing
and dried tears
exhibited their former presence
with a crusted salt white trail
on the faces of many

love did not betray us
but we her
in the name of science
and our non compliance
of her rules

instead of giving
we took
to books and such
to come to know who we were
and she was

we ate poisoned foods
of worldly things
and our souls began to die
for we denied Truth
and her sisters

the waters in our wells of spirit
has dried
and left naught
but a legacy of dust
for we did not truest
in our gifts
and now that the shift has come about
our doubts
and our greatest fear
has been realized

it has been so long
since the sun embraced us
with it’s loving warmth
we too long took for grtanted
and delusionally thought we could do without him
and we had no need of it
yeah . . . we thought

and in our life’s gardens
the only seeds we planted
were of no effect
like GMOs
who knows

perhaps we did have the power
to create that which we desired
and we allowed that fire to die

i sit here now asking myself
in my best Earth, Wind and Fire tone
“where have all the flowers gone”
have we forsaken
the best of who we are

and with this simple asking
i awaken in a sweat
from this potential fruitless nightmare
and i declare
Lorde, “i ain’t done yet”
Bet on Black

© January 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.

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