When Come The Final Day's... Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Yellow orb veils the gravid Moon...
shocking the brains of Mother Earth,

lambs lay down, 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 over,
perditious symbols.... nascent;

a revelation to those who know
the final lines of John's last chapter,

in speaking of a Holy Kingdom
where lambs dine with The Host.

where all goodness be rewarded
and evil dines on forest leaf of sumac.



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Frank James Ryan Jr. / FjRw