fall the rain
can fall the rain?
can rage the trees, that give a hospice
to every weary, wounded bird?
can call the birds by name?
was every road so cobbled & split
was every cloud a bruise upon the sky
was every grassy field parched & withered
was every hill so high
a soldierís helmet is a crown of thorns
his aches, a spear thrust in his side
full of a minstrel that merely mourns
full of sorrow, but never cried
dismantle the cannon that pocks the land
rip the flag that takes no mends
a thousand miles begins a journey
a journey never ends
the burning night is made of songs he didnít sing
the hill that stretches higher, higher
a brooding passion, a sculpted fireÖ
†Iíve lost something
(Art: Rene Jacques)