Yellow orb veils the gravid Moon...
shocking the brains of the Earth,
lambs in fields, eyes to the sky,
they live by congenital presage;
the world cannot rise without peace
and foresight, something the animals own-
from cages, howling forewarnings...
about drones, and the sound of changes;
so tell us, oh Seer of darkness and blight,
be these signs a prologue to hemorrhage -
of wells in the East, Israel's Sheol,
guised as six Torahs in sixty-six tongues;
and hear the lambs cry out like wolves,
they've been told they have no souls,
they'll always know before we do -
when Death pays out its deliverance.
End stage, now, the opus complete,
perditious symbols in patterns of six;
a revelation to those who know-
the final lines of John's presentation-
in speaking of a Holy Kingdom
where lambs dine with The Host.
where all goodness be rewarded
and the evil dine on fields of sumac.
© MMXVI-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjR
[*Revised on August 4th,2016
reposted on August 11th,2016]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem