The Roaring of a Lion
JC Fairchild; Entertainment
As the men above sink into golden thrones
The cage unleashed his mighty blow
The lion walks the tightropes edge
To head the clouds deeper than their beds
Trumpets blow and their eyes will sift
Of lurking souls who didn’t miss
The water from the stony well
Opens visions of breezing window nights
To shake and wither the dead
The lion’s claws dig deeper, until black skies appear
The trumpets ring out much louder and spirits walk the Earth
Raking the grasslands through and under
Of dying things who must not wander
The lion trots and steeps in his steeple
The red flags blow with tornado envy
Until under the chimney, the blankets shall shift
And the lion must not take his risk
A white bodied wool to open newborn eyes to the singers
To give birth to the new beginning of spring
That has to come, when the coins’ spin on counter tops
The lion’s roar shakes infinity’s core like thunder
While the little raw comes through, like a brand new whisper
