God is watching over the wise: A poem 

These brave stones are all in my bones 

These little pedestals, I make my thrones 

The universe is made up of two cones 

The material and the spiritual; we are but drones 

In the twilight hours, before sunrise, 

when a nightly fire descends from the skies, 

the dragon wished his Dad goodbyes 

The tears stuck like pearls in his eyes 

His Mother said ‘love’ with many sighs 

The dragon bears pain, but asks not why 

Those men have guns with bullets of lies 

And with their callous strike, truth always dies 

Yet, God is always watching over the wise 

that the phoney light never cuts His ties 

If you scan the deep lows and the highs 

you’ll see that God knows who deserves the prize