The Last Lament

When shall I receive my wings?

Look at all that I have done.

When shall I get my golden feathers?

I have not seen a single one.

Look at him; he has his wings,

Yet less than me he did.

Of our belongings we gave equal parts

But all his acts he kept hid.

As I sit here, waiting for wings,

Sitting on an endless plain,

I see life's endless peoples,

Feeling life's endless pain.

Look at her and what she did,

More she had than I to hide.

Lived a life much worse than mine,

Yet she has wings of paradise.

Sitting on the endless plain,

Waiting for my wings,

Nothing left to do but cry

And laugh and talk and sing.

Finally I get my wings.

I feel them surge from out my back.

Not wings of feathered gold do I see:

To my horror, tis fleshy black.

I fly to the City of Endless Sky,

I see streets of gold and crystal sea.

Everyone there has inner peace,

But there is no place for me.

I fly to the feet of the Throne of The King,

The center of love and truth and light.

I must rectify this mistake,

I cannot wear these wings of Night.

Father, Father

What have I done?

"Well, hello

And welcome, my son."

He stopped and looked

Just beyond me.

I turned and saw an old man

Crawling to His feet.

I helped the old man,

Placed him at the feet of God.

Then said I,

"Is that only worth aught?"

God pointed His finger, I turned my head

Toward one wing of black,

Only to find a golden feather

Curling into ash.

"You see my son, what you have done

Is put others far below,

Not equal to, as you should do

And now you fully know."

"Always worried about your worth

And treasures stored in Heaven.

Son, you missed my message:

My forgiveness is freely given."

"Freely given,

Freely received.

That's what you

Were taught to believe."

"My forgiveness is here

If only you reach out and take it.

The color of wings is based on

The future that you make it."

"Do merely what should be done,

Don't worry about the gain.

Forgive others as I've you,

Else you'll be of light the bane."

Epilogue to The Last Lament

I went from that place

And promptly found my own,

In the darkest midnight,

Seated on sinners' bones.

I have rejected what He offered.

I'll make my own way in this plane.

Bearing hate and grief and sorrow,

Perpetuating all Man's pain.

I have shed my grief and pain.

Of regrets, I have none.

I am my own Father now,

And I say, "My will be done."

Satan, Lucifer,

Mephistopholes, Morningstar.

I offer you power and wealth,

Merchant, slave or czar.

I am the Endless,

Only in greed begun,

One Final Day and then

The Last Lament shall be sung.

Patrick W. Crocker ©