It's Only The Beginning Poem by Alexander Schaunard

</></>IT’S ONLY THE BEGINNING

The fragrant black leather
Shield round his face
Above his shoulders
Protecting from the elements
Of an unsuspecting
Unfulfilling
Horribly unfitting Texas town,
The rebel stood.
His home far behind
Future a distant cat-call
For tomorrow’s midnight
Guitar hanging
Dangling
Uncomfortably heavy in his hand,
The rebel smoked.

Alone
That’s what describes him today
But tomorrow?
Who knows?

The nights are all so different
From one menacing moon to the next
It’s no irregular occurrence
That he share his cigarette
With his nighttime shadow

But this is what he is
And he couldn’t truthfully admit
That he doesn’t adore it
The life

Spending all hours
Picking meaningless melodies
From the music-tinged air
In his lungs, heart and mind

And the words so often flow
Like his quill’s own sweat and blood
Gently flood his pages
Blank lines

The smoky halo drifting
About his head
Is stretching its holy hands
To times not yet come
But who could possibly understand?
No one
The rebel smiles
His mind so comfortably
Stimulated with jazz and life
He knows that the future
Will lead him home

And somehow
Somewhat
Somewhere
It’s only the beginning

It’s always been
Only the beginning