The Wise Man at His End

The Wise Man at His End

The poetry he writes will not ignite

His verses fork no lightning in the sky,

Dylan. Raging he goes into that night.

He writes, he writes, he writes, but all seems trite

He tries, He tries, a never ending try.

The poetry he writes will not ignite

His flint and steel words cannot spark a light

The pages fill, but still the flame defy,

Dylan, Raging he goes into that night.

A welder’s arc, a line of power and might

He hopes a perfect bead gets more than by.

The poetry he writes will not ignite.

Emotions hot, his heart on fire takes flight

A strain soars out . . . all ash . . . and dusty dry,

Dylan, Raging he goes into that night.

You said it well my friend, you said it right

Without forked lightning there is no good bye.

The poetry he writes will not ignite,

Dylan, Raging he goes into that night.