I, the storm through me
Destroying all 
Making darker darkest night
 
I, the inferno
Burning through me
I, the burning tree
I, the remaining ash
 
I, the love 
Coursing through me
Not mine, not sent
Though embraced
 
I call The Angels
They heed my calls
In ways you will never know
Rescuing you in ways
They prohibit me from sharing
 
I, the keeper of secrets
At times
I, the secret fool
At other times
 
I, this path
Few understand
When vision after vision
Come to pass
 
Long ago I, this path learned
Verdicts to be read
Judgments to be passed
Flowing through me
Though not of me
 
And, always (always, always)
I live the question
“What is my role?”
Voices, thoughts talking
Directing me
Allowing me 
I, this little boy
Deep inside
To smile.

 
Copyright © 2020 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved