HE DID NOT KNOWN HE HAD A BEAUTIFUL MIND

TILL THE CROWS HAD GATHERED ROUND HIM

. . .

He did not know he had a beautiful mind

until the crows began to gather round

Did not feel the wind of change or hear the rain begin to pour

did not hear the men of pain were knocking at his door

His friends departing left him not a soured note

or helped him fill the emptied mote

The walls were falling, angels calling, he had given up his all

Maybe not in coloured notes, or silver coin

His heart still wretched beneath the throne

of light and glory, there the masters tragic story

And all his dreams of blood and gory pain, 

a tattooed stain and he the never free of fear

He felt the dark night drawing near

the sound of tears, a kind of ringing in his ears

Behemoth had arrived and he no cavalcade to greet him

Or any hope that he might beat him, into the bloodied earth

His sword now vacant from his belted girth

Just words of love upon his tongue lolling

O’ Behemoth deny your torture, return my mirth

My joy of life, my heart of faith with which I may

Destroy this wraith, then fall upon my gourd, recite

my Lamentations midst protestations to thy nations

Blesséd Michael hath now arrived,

he whom witnessed the saviours Cup

He of whom a finer mind as strong as lions

is leader of the Angel kind, blind to human greed

and all the passions upon which fall mans seed

are born to thee, sweet breath of praise

Once more this virtue is a golden vase

by which we find new ways to order all our days

He had not known these thoughts so kind

came from out his own sweet mind

Till behind the summer clouds he saw

not raven, nor the purple-headed jack-a-daw

Not wrook, nor bird of prey sweeping low

in gatherings of night, a crowd of hooded crow

edenbraytoday

25.10.2020