Array ( [sid] => 49911 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => THE ORDAINED MISSION [time] => 2004-06-01 01:48:43 [hometext] => [bodytext] => THE ORDAINED MISSION

(i)

Walls break,
peoples hug,
Germanies unite,
there is light.

Amidst gongs and bells,
new world is born.

A new Europe rolls down
the escalator of time.

(ii)
Ringing with cries of freedom,
prestroika unfurls in the sky,
glasnost breaks the union.

A new confederation takes off
to join the older choir,
new priests are anointed.

(iii)
Bishops sit in circle,
kiss crosses one by one,
blood and flesh a real feast.

No heretic nailed,
no prince crucified,
no one killed in fake encounters.

State is on the alert
to let no assassin
go scot free.

(iv)
With no regret or remorse
I walk out of the prison
after a twenty-seven-year spell.

I am my future
held in chains
yet a beacon to my men,
the Mandela to my generations.

No sacrifice is too dear
to break asunder my chains,
that my fellowmen be free.

I fix my gaze on my son
dispatched to the guillotine,
I burn red with rage
struggling to break open the cage.
[comments] => 0 [counter] => 160 [topic] => 41 [informant] => mggandhi [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => political ) Your Poetry Dot Com - THE ORDAINED MISSION


THE ORDAINED MISSION
Date: Tuesday, 1st June 2004 @ 01:48:43 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: mggandhi
THE ORDAINED MISSION

(i)

Walls break,
peoples hug,
Germanies unite,
there is light.

Amidst gongs and bells,
new world is born.

A new Europe rolls down
the escalator of time.

(ii)
Ringing with cries of freedom,
prestroika unfurls in the sky,
glasnost breaks the union.

A new confederation takes off
to join the older choir,
new priests are anointed.

(iii)
Bishops sit in circle,
kiss crosses one by one,
blood and flesh a real feast.

No heretic nailed,
no prince crucified,
no one killed in fake encounters.

State is on the alert
to let no assassin
go scot free.

(iv)
With no regret or remorse
I walk out of the prison
after a twenty-seven-year spell.

I am my future
held in chains
yet a beacon to my men,
the Mandela to my generations.

No sacrifice is too dear
to break asunder my chains,
that my fellowmen be free.

I fix my gaze on my son
dispatched to the guillotine,
I burn red with rage
struggling to break open the cage.


This poem is Copyright © mggandhi


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