Don Mann: Focusing on my Craft

Wednesday, Sept. 08, 2004 - 1:11 a.m.

The gods crouched anxiously over their viewscreens

The future was clear as a piece of broken scotch glass

So he marched headlong into a wall but what does it mean?

They all shook their fists in anger at the rape at mass

He stepped out into the light of day

The heavens shook and opened for him

the waters parted and made a way

even rays from the sun began to dim

He cleared his throat as if to speak

"I want to have a family before I die"

The raging waters flowed in the creek

Under bridges forgotten, never asking why

So a picture on the wall fell down for us

The Last Supper is what folks have named it

We belive we killed the beast but trust...

We have yet to even maim it

"I've lost my religion but found my faith."

He's lost his grip but found his mind

In raging flames on August the Eighth

He turned back the mighty hands of time

"Black night, you have consumed my soul."

In a tempest of shadow she nodded, wry

"Some have said you'd have swallowed me whole"

This accusation was more than she could deny

He began to speak again, this time a whisper

"... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

The candles laid out on the table began to flicker

They said, in their own way; "... ..."

The beasts reared back their heads and laughed

The menfolk and women began to rejoice

The man who had once upon a time abandoned his craft

Had finally regained his voice

...and all bowed down to listen.

Delve Into The Past - Onward Into The Future