The Sword

There are days when I wake up
And oh the atmosphere of civil man
is like an angry stone upon my singing heart
How strange am I that fired with boldness
I went where all the others feared
And finding there a sword
I raised it up like any other silly sunrise
but the people looking shocked did screaming say
“No! Put back that sword! You know what hell is coming now!”
And oddly enough I’ve been to hell
And hell is merely man
The devil did not like my smile
I sang to him; he said “move on…”
So no, I cannot re-sheath the sword
It’s soldered in my hand
and if this makes me dangerous
there in my other hand’s a staff
to steady my worn gait
walking on I’ll bring my peace
to what next stop attends my fate

with joy, with peace, with love, with exuberance
I go

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