Tomorrow Shall be Told | A Poem

Such men of old as none have known

yet still they live today

Giants, are they, among mere men

have not such as these been seen?

All around the earth shines green

such simple pleasures new

A young world waits at full command

but giants care not for such things

So great is the splendor you possess

so vast your holdings and stores!

So young the earth, so old your ways

pray tell, the means of your wealth

Within your grasp the will of time

the future advances nigh

As even the lowly, growing plants

become your means to fly

Take unto you your daughters of men

take pleasure in such beauty fair

Tomorrow shall be told of this

and that which you conceal

In colors broad and shadows deep

a primitive scene depict

In eloquent words of magic spun

perversion makes a slip

In darkest cloaks, their stories hide

rebels to fornicate light

Acting out a crude charade

in masks of bone and flesh

Look not upon the painted scene

hear not the stories fair

The mind agrees, the ear is keen

but lest your soul be damned

Hark, do you hear the angels weep

for whom do they bemoan?

What rapture be endured when shadows fall

and night gives way to night

Oh, men of old, men of today

is not your prison dark?

Does not the bondage of your being

liken unto that of your soul?

Behold a mighty cedar falls

the earth lets out a sigh

Waiting for the final day

for all the forest felled

In triumph shall the world revile

the creatures of your ways disposed

All heaven’s barred and even the grave

will not hold a soul such as yours