Time Unveiling Truth

 Blood spills, removed from
     pulsing, two-way streets onto
     cold concrete; no one can stop.

A bold Lion roars in
     Hebraic monologues;
     not preacher, executioner,

For years ago:
     You did not listen;
     I did not understand.

A small sexless child
     sits under the Lion’s mane and
     shuts its eyes as if invisible.

In its hand appears a stone
     :skip it across the lake
     :see how far it goes!

Holding each others hand
     we see the stained horizon
     procure its new toy.

The child is an indeterminate source,
     mutating into unique visions
     of Pain, Love, Sex

…and the Lion roars on.

-Brian Minnick ‘10