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
