A Rambling Raconteur

Religiosity


My religion is that of
Jesus Christ of latter-day Romantic poets.
Love is my religion.
Isn’t that right,
St. John Keats?
I have faith
in what I cannot see.
I am certain
of what I hope for.
The rhythm and meter
of my life
will end
in two perfectly rhymed couplets,
five iambs each.
My eulogy will flow
from the lips
of children and angels
and not a soul will weep
for me
for I will finally be
where I belong.
The Lord will meet me
in the halls of prophets
and etch my name
into His grand anthology
of poets and singers and
various and sundry
rambling raconteurs.
Until that day
I will follow a path
that is not marked,
a trail no map
could plot.
Loving all,
doing harm to none,
teaching generations
of my successors
that free verse
and blank verse
are not the same thing
but that Jesus loves them
anyway.
Reminding saints and sinners
that the grave
knows no denomination
but only asks
“Who do you love?”
Informing intellectuals
that it is the pen
and not the printing
that makes a poet
and that the hallelujah chorus
should not just be saved
for holy days.
My last recitation
shall by my requiem
and I will follow
the Great Bard of Bethlehem
home.