on A Myrtle Tree

And just like that

there is a man sitting on a myrtle tree

his body is feeble but his voice is loud

He sings the same song everyday;

Woe is the man who believes

in the freedom the world promises

for no such thing has ever existed

or will ever…

Sometimes he begins to fuss and wail

for no ear cares to listen

He should have given up a while ago

yet he campaigns even vigorously

Remove the scales from your eyes

so you can see in the darkness

There is only freedom

in the arms of the son of man

Days come and months pass

Sun shines and snow breaks

A child is born and a man dies

but the man’s mouth is never shut;

Open your lips and sing his praise

the LORD of lords is alive forever

drink from the living water he provides

and let peace rule your heart till death

The kids make fun of him all day

the young men think he’s drunk on spirit

the old men think he finally broken

since his family died a while back

I sometimes sit under that myrtle tree

let his voice serenade me while I rest

lately I started thinking of the possibilities

the man may be mad, but what if he’s right?