L I G H T • S H A D O W S Poem by Benjamin Lee Hopper

If I were a wise man,
I'd open my eyes to see
a man with opened eyes
starring into a stream,
reflecting upon his merit,
and between the plaque
light cast, contrasting
present with the past,
the shadows would reveal
the secret of self causality,
providing the antidote to heal
the sickness that's inherent,
but only if I were a wise man.

If I were a wise man,
I'd relish all reprove,
edging scorn towards
cloaks of flattery,
batting lashes at my foes,
welcoming insults with inquiry
to distill their origin's root
and reveal the hidden essence
tunneling their feelings deeper
to a molten core that's festering
and pains them more than me,
but only if I were a wise man.

If I were a wise man,
I'd reconsider what I speak,
sparing evil from my tongue
so my mouth would only reek
of frankincense and fresh myrrh,
that I only release golden words,
soothing arthritis of the mind,
luring crippled men to teach
how we can sow a field with peace,
that when the spring season comes
and the harvest's ready to reap,
the wind would carry seed
to another starving city
and continue the ceremony,
but only if I were a wise man.

If I were a wise man,
I'd bow my head to break
the yoked planks of vanity
and discard the wooden weight,
avarice splintering into dust,
submitting soul to the kinesis
and receive instead the selfless
task of putting on a necklace
of servitude as iron bars,
a gracious ornament only worn
below the crown of Babylon,
yielding strength to the need
to share the burden of Creating
a cure to heal the hurting heart
of a God who's will it is to bear
the time it takes for us to wake,
as dead man slowly start to turn
their servitude into sainthood,
but only if I were a wise man.