The Good Doctor

The good doctor bade me to speak my mind

And I say aloud:

"It is only paper and a fine pen"

"The paper only needs to be filled"

"And my heart, not my mind"

"Knows what to say"

"My mind knows the words"

And, good doctor, I think to myself

You were a villain to some, for sometime

But, you my teacher, I your pupil,

You are always in my mind

Then, is this you in the room

As I write these words to you?

A Saint's Brigade cometh.

Or, is this one of my perennial beliefs

That the end will come of God's hand

And so precious few stand to be saved?

Your need - or is it mine? - for individuality

Burns in my heart

I must stand true

Remain a poet by day and night

But, beware my wrath

Any who challenge my own faiths

For they must walk my fields soon

And the shepherds know who to shelter

And who to hang

I have asked for salvation and believe

- A belief of the strongest fibers -

That salvation is at hand, for those I have asked.

I don't believe it is the question

But the recipient.

I asked for you because it seemed

Like the right thing

And because I wanted to.

We have yet to share a toast

But that day will come

Upon it we will laugh together

For who dares say they know

What forces coerce the morrow

Or what actually happened today?