Member-only story
It’s All Good in the Spiritual Hood
I render not in supposition
Nor in the soliloquy of one’s bold daring
Nor monologue in its stirrings
But across the ages
Like some ancient Persian
In conquest of Rome’s vestal virgins
Lost in youthful diatribes
But be gentle in reflective tones
Hence not from this time forth
Set the compass for true north
To seek solace in the refuge
Of the wretched and the poor
Be ready honed on equal thrones
Be it in Rome or on the streets back home
The brave and free divide equal
And just as equally they fall
So as you climb with new inclines
Set out as a pilgrim to some ancient shrine
There one day may come a time
Be it in yours or be it in mine
That the lessons and the torments
Become instruments made divine
Whether stringed or woodwind
Keys played in which we sing
Or the skins of which we din
Or some obsequious play thing
In the end that which is due
Is only played in tune
