Poem: Roman Vista

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He stands on the roof, on the tall windblown tower
………overlooking the city--
Gazing past the tiled roofs clustered near beneath Him,
Past the brown, green, and black shingles covering the low
………and cool residences imbedded in the cedary hills
………forming a bowl to cradle His tower under Him,
Past the white cotton clouds, through the azure liquid sky,
………beyond the sun and the heavens, into nowhere.

He smiles and the sun glows warmly,
Sending fire into all natural things--
………tree, bush, dog, or man and woman--
Inducing all who wake or ever stirred on earth to peace--
………to peaceful, hot oblivion.

He laughs and the clouds start to move,
Enshrouding themselves
………with black violet,
Encircling the sun, shutting out its light
………but not its soporific heat.

He roars, and thunder stumbles out from behind the hills
………and careens through the clouds,
Smashing the peace with heavy, loud, bootsteps
………that roll back and forth in the hills' cradles.

A tear builds in His eye, larger, until it bleeds
……….down His soft cheek, and the rains
Begin to stroke the fertile soil,
Splashing the gutters with a coolish clearness
………restoring peace once more.

He sobs, and the cool of the rain turns to heat,
Boiling the tile-covered roofs
………and the trees
...........and everything beneath Him
………with fever.

He sobs again and the clear waters
………turn to filth,
Coating everything touched by the searing rain
………with a blistering, sticky mud.

He cries on and on, and the rain turns to fire
           as it pounds the earth,
Kindling the city, the trees,
           the roofs, the streets, the gutters,
          even His own tower
With flames that shoot up
          into the cotton clouds,
Billowing smoke to the liquid sky.

Finding his violin, still crying,
He plays wild songs
         into the fire and ash,
Bowing and laughing at the same time
         until the whole city is destroyed
         and even His tower is steaming
Black rubble
         beneath the quietly smiling sun.

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