Foothills of the Rockies on the edge of spring.
Driving through for two days, under an endless
blue sky and beneath stars unnumbered,
and with Revelation on CD, over and over and over.
The Red Dragon is up there in the sky, and The Woman
has those twelve stars on her crown, and I see her running
and I see angels wings grow to take her to safety, and I see
that her Son will be born, and maybe he will wipe away our tears,
and wipe away the ones I’ve cried over you.
It feels like the end of time, and what does losing you matter,
when The Red Dragon is paying off his legions with hate to come
for all the broken and under the heel, and we’re on opposite sides,
but we both saying we’re fighting with angels, but my love, my love,
you carry a gun and hold the hand of the one that Mocks Your God.
The wind is bitter still, and I can’t let it throttle the beleaguered light,
let it blow out all the love I have for this world, or for you, still, still.
If you worshipped a God of Love, why did you side with the monsters
who demean and degrade and speak of Faith through gritted teeth
and clenched fists? Are we not all His Children? Are we not all one blood?
The flood didn’t take The Woman, may tender hearts swallow up the deluge,
and may there be a glowing city one day, no more night, only the warmest light,
and all this pain and hurt and hate and sorrow be wiped away, as we are children
again, living forever, clean and whole. You turned your back on me, turned me away,
but I want to see you there, without the burning hate. I want to hold your hand in the sun.