Seasons in a man’s heart by Robert Fullarton Copyright 2016

Seasons in a man’s heart

by Robert Fullarton

Copyright 2016

Seasons in our lives

God given flowers

By the wayside moment

Before tumbling headfirst

Into the hurricane again.

Rest in the storm’s eye

Where a drop of peace

Patters the soul

To quench it of its thirst

Against the material desert

Of the dying western star

The chatterers circle

Flows as muck

On paper and on air

Where unbelieving hearts

Are taken nowhere new

But four corners

Of the empty contention

At the border of tomorrow

You see the premonition

When childhood’s wooden world

Was burnt away for Iron modern atheism

Do not go down

Into the town

Where blood, and tears

With human fears

Were sowed

Where the malefactors rode

Rest in the storm’s eye

Where a drop of peace

Patters the soul

To quench it of its thirst

Against the material desert

Of the dying western star

Foxes have holes

But the Son of Man

Has nowhere to rest his head.

Boulders brush the brittle soul

Where love like a helpless foal

Is crushed, yet the core

Is waiting for the resurrection