On the Road

My feet study closely the apocryphal scriptures

of the road. The stars above me sing the Te Deum.

I wonder why. I myself am singing an old song

from deep in my memory. I know why. 

There is faith in the song, for it carries me. 

Faith I create, with words and melody.

I have faith in the moon, the buxom 

proprietress of the sky. 

Ambassador of my soul, my song

is old and wizened, and brings with it

a message of peace. Won’t you welcome him?

Even now there is a feast being prepared

in his honor. He is starving, and will gladly eat.

Give him wine, let him drunkenly speak.

The road is long, and its scripture enigmatical,

but the truths it espouses are good fodder

for my song. The stars keep singing,

as if to welcome me to heaven.

But I am not ready to go there yet.

Give me the long, strange, burdensome road

that I might keep singing, and my old diplomatic song 

may offer the world a perfect, if momentary, peace.