Rising Son (The Re-Birth Of A Nation) Poem by Phillip Mobley

He stands tall. Among the billowing oaks and the northern pines,
Among the majestic redwoods of California, he stands tall.
In the foot hills of Virginia and the shadow lawns of the Allegany mountains and in the valley of the great Smokey’s; he stands there—there he stands.
And the world waits with baited breathe to see the right foot shod with the spat of promise rise and fall at his command. As he strides through a sea of thistle and straw, the wheat and tares that float by as he passes. The path is narrow, the gate is straight, yet he knows broad is the path and wide the gate that leads to destruction – and yet he treads onward.
With a vision of the future that calls his name.
Barak!
And the world cries out, hallelujah! Our time has come!
As there before us, the son rises.
A horizon of color, never before seen.
The son rises and there he takes his place in history among the stars of the heavens.
The dream finally realized, the promise finally fulfilled.

Change has come. Change has come to the nation, to the world and it is embraced by the receptive and the once disenfranchised. It has come in the age of a dream realized, of a hope once despised. It has come as the prophet foretold; it has come like justice rolling down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream. And the world waits with baited breathe to see the vision made into reality.

This is he, Barak!
And the world cries out, hallelujah! Our time has come!
As there before us, the son rises.


The rising son peers across the galactic constellation as his stalwart eye ever vigilant burst the crystal prism with colors never before seen in recorded history.

With a vision of the future that calls his name.

Barak!
Barak!
And the world cries out, hallelujah! Our time has come!