Lear

My nation seeks a perilous time
Whether by design
Or by some force supernatural
Or other
I know not.

There are no good Kings
There are no good men
They laugh and strut
Upon a stage
Until at last
We turn a page
And are heard
By us
No more.

Tis true
I have bowed
Low to them
I am no nobleman.
I earn my bread
By every head
I see
Before me
On the stage.

But The Plot
I know not what
That signifies.

Strange Times
Men love not our King
Waylaid by bullets
And Gunpowder.
A man of no clear
Conviction
Save stay in power.

Be these the times
Or men
Consumed by their designs?
Lack of scruple
Is the rule
Not the exception.
But mayhap
All this learning
From the Greek and Roman time
Hath oer’turned
Our Christian principles.

I shall write a play
Of civil disorder
Of father against daughter
Of the folly
Of power
Without accountability.
My three witches from Macbeth shall return
But in more youthful form
Their usurpation
Of power
More vigorous in turn.

I think the hypocrites
Shall benefit.
Those wise in the ways
Of sophistry.
Old traditions
Die hard.
They will fight with tooth and claw
Till they descend upon each other
And that will be an end of it.

New notions
New commotions
A wind of change
Shall breed discord
Power
Shall not yield.

But there’s a rule
To guide
All such struggles
Of the will.
Command
Of heart
And mind
For the future of our kind
None be so blind
As to forfeit
Their posterity.

Madness, destruction
No compunction
Shall restrain
We shall contain
Those elements.

For,
When all is said and done
We must be one
And not alone
Until we spy the promised land
Proceed we must
All hand in hand.

© Copyright Jerome Raymond Kraus 2005