Man 
 
 

 The thunder rolls, the lightning strike I ride 
 takes me from the earth in one gigantic stride. 
 My steed it is of blue and white 
 driven by the power of light 
 across the sky and through the night. 
 The thunder clouds seem to take fright 
 they rain and hail on all below 
 while my steed lightning steals the show. 
 On a pale horse I ride the sky,
 see the wonders of nature. Oh why 
 should such beauty be held from those 
 that cannot stride across the woes 
 of mankind and all creation. 
 Strength is mine, not of a nation 
 for I can surpass the wiles of mankind 
 and study the reality of what I find. 

 The world is mine just for the taking 
 but not of my soul nor in the making 
 as lightning slashes across the heavens 
 the thunder rolls in massive caverns 
 I watch the wars and peace below 
 I see the sights no man shall know 
 for all the sadness and the woes 
 my steed and I ride all the rows. 

 For man is not destined to be eternal 
 he lives on borrowed time, is but the kernel 
 as with all life he awaits the time 
 with fear and terror in his heart, not mine 
 he strives for greatness and salvation 
 but it cannot be his, in this generation 
 for greatness is but born within 
 and salvation must be at Gods whim. 

 Man spends his waking hours believing 
 that he is the chosen species, living, 
 not so! cries out the natural wonder 
 man is living out a blunder 
 created by forces he strives to know 
 But cannot, as all time will show 
 for as the lightning flashes by 
 so does his life, so will he die. 

 And so I ride my faithful steed 
 across the skies and watch his need 
 for that which is born of dust 
 returns, as so it must 
 of all creation in the making 
 mankind has done too much taking 
 for in this universe only one thing rules 
 and that is love, and love is cruel. 

 The lightning strikes the soul of man 
 and with me ride those that can 
 foresee that destiny is but a plan 
 not to be wasted on such a scam. 
 The right to live, the right to die 
 is but a part for which we strive, 
 for moral righteousness is just a part 
 and counts not in the final court. 

 Fear not death, nor his steed 
 for with mankind there came the need 
 for that which is born inside his heart. 
 He mounts the pale horse, becomes the start 
 when lightning strikes hold no fear 
 for the soul of man it sheds no tear, 
 again the thunder sings his song 
 and waits for him to come along. 

 For as with time in all its glory 
 so shall mankind not tell the whole story 
 for extinction is nature's goal 
 all that can live on is in his soul. 
 We are but as some grains of sand 
 spread out across the expanse of land. 
 As we live out our shallow lives 
 we are as bees born to the hive. 

 The cry of man will always echo 
 loud and clear for those that follow. 
 Strive not for that which is born within 
 let nature take that back with him 
 across the universe; greatness we see 
 not understanding, it's not made for me, 
 and so the light beam travels on 
 recording that which was man's song. 

 The soul of man sings but a short note 
 each one has its part in what is wrote. 
 For that which is now, cannot forever be 
 sung to the tune which man cannot see. 
 As lightning flashes overhead, remember why 
 man was created but to die, 
 the thunder sings its song again 
 the lightning flashes, down comes the rain.
 
 

  (C) Copyright 1999
BOB KING
All Rights Reserved

The Nexus Collection
BOB KING

Awakening
Dreamtime
Man

Nature
Nirvana
Pathways

Reflections
Reflections 2
Reflections 3

Shadows
Sounds
Stars

Taps
Treasures.
Wish




CONTENTS