It Is Time For Another Miracle
Each grain of sand that makes up an army of white powder lives its own life where it lays
A camels footprint gives form until the winds blow memories of passage into the stillness of the night
The cob-webs of the galaxy with slow crawling spiders of light converge upon dulled senses
And purpose lies in state with no glowing ember as the cold encounters the days light
Flattened mirage table-top approaching concern mark each days ritualistic hope
Without a new miracle the old wonders of man and God are of no matter to an aging mind
Counting grains of sand that all look the same is the equal of moving mountains for personal gain
The sheerness of existence reveals the dusty layers of inequality as each is drawn to his own kind
In the cause of God’s mark upon our generation the future is the same as what has already passed
The truth is nothing if not a heavy cargo in a boat with no oars that is carried by the poor
Stripped of everything and left with nothing a man waits for the happiness that desire has abandoned
Without effort or patience nothing is gained or found so there is no need for a lock upon life’s door
Discipline is the only thing that can be counted upon in the waking hours of another unapologetic day
Crossing the desert without a compass by five brave souls and one God is madness only to the rational
Yet giving birth to a child into the abyss of poverty is the same as a trek that only books can foretell
Only in the absence of hope can the sons of despair rise once again for it is now time for another miracle
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