by Alex Caruso
[The following poem is actually a song, and in this case it is only fitting to hint at its evocative soundscape–a latent haunting wistfulness reminiscent of certain songs by Bob Dylan. One day soon the world may welcome an album bearing this memorable work. –Encomia]
Fathers are built on
A hopeful foundation
You are in everything we do
I am unfinished
But I cannot go far
It is the time for you
So what does the world say?
What does the whole world say?
What does the world say to you?
We were the martyrs
And we were the saints
We built the temples for you
We clung to the prophets
And we cast them down
We leveled the temples for you
What does the world say?
What does the whole world say?
What does the world say to you?
We were the masters
With a ring full of keys
We kicked them down and took their shoes
Now we live in the city
With a thousand policemen
In a little house built for two
What does the world say?
What does the whole world say?
What does the world say to you?
A thousand lost golf balls
You will reap what we’ve sown
The ground shakes with truth
For I see approaching
The rock and the witness, the critic, the stranger
The worlds aimed at you
What does the world say?
What does the whole world say?
What does the world say to you?
Featured photograph by Mike Chai, courtesy of a Pexels free license.
ENCOMIA 