Before light reigned, ahead heaven’s divide,
Ere Earth arose and the rival stars stirred,
Before soaring fowl’s flight, before man’s stride,
Came, with life-giving breath, the spoken Word.
Born, from these spirited winds, teeming life,
Seed begat seed in endless multitude,
Whence the speaking voice knew an unhid face.
Alas, slippery doubt wakes sinful strife,
The Word’s well-meaning, strewn of certitude,
Soon heard, sooner forgot, without a trace.
Leaves goodly order and divine command,
Bereft mortal man but his working hands.
Written script these industrious hands wrought,
On kilned tablet or treated parchment, sketched,
Each glyph, each character, a purposed thought,
From living memory, a fable etched.
Tools of bone, tools of stone, of metal-make,
Alike, the scripted Word, dull and listless,
Mightier for the endless life ceded,
That compels, foresworn, to the contract’s stakes,
Abides right channels for proper redress;
Law and order, to authors heeded.
For whom so governs the Word, governs man,
Time conquers flesh, yet still, the letter stands.
Stands, yet falters, worn my moral decay,
Of old bindings, man’s spirit grows weary,
In new findings, boosts him greater gainsay,
To corrupt the Word with untest theory.
Wherefore learnéd men make the known unknown,
Posits truth revolves about their orbit,
Avers goodness spins to their rightful tune?
By what heavenly sign ought men dethrone,
The wisdom of ages to obscure wit,
Which divines unheard joy and endless boon?
The Word, made promise, an expected act,
On shaky grounds born, by shifting men, backed.
What corners do the false prophets withdraw,
Whence past, the foretold times, without event?
Yields them the pulpit? Concedes them the law?
Nay! Spines they grow, by forceful argument.
Maintains them, the Word, to edge and sharpen,
To grind out pleasantries and polite speech,
To a narrow point, a simple refrain,
For which, to beaten drum, all may harken,
A horrid war cry, a deafening screech,
To silence truth and exalt the profane.
The Word, cudgeled and battered, finds new breath,
To pardon its abusers with clubbed death.
Cry mercy, cry foul, deny refusal,
For the ruin crafted through selfish thought,
Whom dares poison the Word by recusal.
Recuse the Word, writ or spake? I think not!
Speak well! Speak often! With good faith abide,
By truth-seeking exchange, tender goodwill,
That discourse sows life, and, reaps not, discord.
Scribe rules, pen laws, in their meanings, confide,
Settle accounts quick, quash early, all ills.
Set the wrongful right, bring all to accord.
Reclaim the Word! Keep it humbly-found.
Only by its, safe-keeping, life abounds!
__G.E. Hernandez__
@WindsPoetic
@Realistic Poetry