Half-Moon Prophet


You paint them up like some half-moon prophet
The light beckons a command of confused attention
Still they come around to hear the words
Words, spoken from you
And full of truth

The servant is actually the master
When the pen is truly mightier than the sword
Sometimes it's not the physics of it all that make it right
It's the words that press on an carry others through the night

It's sickening when they don't listen more
Too much noise, a cloudiness and miscalculation
All of this pressure and so little time
You're thinking
"Oh my God, life in pantomime!"

But it's endearing to see someone who listens
To you, a life worth living
And no sickness can cause a mighty rift
Because, in you, forever making stiches

One day it will all be clear
A sky born in simple fears
All we'll listen to truthful words
Not from a half-mooned prophet, but a fully armed God

pretty good, jared