Frank James Ryan Jr (FjR)

Gold Star - 105,101 Points (A Collection of Select Literary Works)

Searching For Stonehenge & Paradise... - Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr (FjR)

________ I ________


Time will not deign requests,
least of all answer threats;
hand's methodic, indifferent,
perpetually...... insistant,
to the impendings, portendings-
and ultimate endings,
we incur on ourselves,
then tossed on back shelves,
all the sins we have laid,
by Free Will's sad parade.

And perhaps it's not fair -
Time carries its air
with obstinate stare,
should ever you dare
to challenge Times hand
and its hourglass sand
by Destiny's power
dictating 'The Hour'
that be our last.

You must be agnostic,
or a Doctor of Space
who purges prognostics,
out the sides of your face -
to take on this question
of Time, Life and Lesson,
rebuke Heaven's Gate,
from logics queer bait
that bookmarks your guile;
look at Abaddon smile.

Still we're searching, searching,
where great men laid claims
'til Time syncronates
with Destiny's game.
Poor us.....and in fact-
damn Us and our acts
that Time won't tolerate
and won't take back.

What to do, my friend?
Is there Time to repent?
Perhaps time we search
for some grail of soul re-birth,
some renewed ambience...

For the God-Gifts we take
for granted everyday,
and rarely take embrace,
'til Time drops its face
and hands on our shoulders.



Time never veers, never lies,
it be constant, all of our lives
always moving on and forward,
relentless, and very stalwart
through our memories, cherished in kind
Time allows us to kindle within our minds
the many events and tales and stories
of youth, friends, love and glory;
of ships we once sailed o'er riptides,
storms we fought on caps of white,
on course by the nautical hands of 'clock',
with God-safe sail...back to dock
from whence it all began by star
yet, still we search for who we are.

Quite silent be this sober dock
still the hands of Life's terminal clock -
methodic, indifferent,
perpetually insistant.
Be us death-webbed caught in mortal cob
awaiting judgement fro the Kingdom of God
on a string quite frayed and two prayers short
of finding the Peace we all have sought...
It's alright...God is forgiving.

Searching for something, someplace in time,
I am fretingly searching, I trip, I fall,
Where is Peter? I see a large rock
in a field, a halo of light around it;

I have found my Church,
between Stonehenge and Paradise.
and beside a thick tattered rope near a branch-
of a tree...used to crucify Peter for refusing
to deny his Master a fourth time,
on an upside-down Cross,
by disciples request,
claiming unworthiness
to die exactly as his Master did.

And the road is brief, this road we call Life,
Temptation, doubt, many Crosses to shoulder,
and easy to close our eyes
from transgressions laid as bait, and trap
by the serpents tongue...Diablos folly!
But are very much in our own control,
despite sins greatest alibi,
'The Human Element'.

Yet I've learned o'er my years
that despite our godless actions,
that God is so truly ''All Merciful'',
and forgiving, so long as we ask
for forgiveness, and the right
to enter His Kingdom of Paradise,
many miles and sand grain from Stonehenge.
Penance, atonement, respecting Life
in any stage, 'til Death takes you to Life.

Eye's open, you'll see, -
that your Maker will be
waiting with your ticket
to Paradise.

©Frank J. Ryan, Jr.-2013
All Rights Reserved

Revised- 09/04/15
Reposted 07/10/15

Topic(s) of this poem: life and death

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 10, 2015

Poem Edited: Thursday, September 10, 2015

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