Overture To The Next Scene

   
High-rise civilization
collapses system by system
in clouds of silent dust,
settling
around bud-deafened ears
of bewildered people.

brown sparrows sing timeless tunes
in the ancient olive trees
beneath them Jesus prays

Everywhere mortgages are due,
somewhere a clock strikes the hour,
a switch is pulled,
fiat wealth
(positive, negative electrical charges
stored on wafers of silicone)
disappears.

brown sparrows sing timeless tunes
in the ancient olive trees
beneath them Jesus prays

Suddenly all those souls for pottage sold,
and others caught up
in the maelstrom,
know they can never
by money be redeemed,
the cloven-footed beast
holds the master I.O.U.
that trumps them all,
crouches in a corner of cyberspace,
measures with a bloodshot eye,
gnaws his knuckles
and snickers--

brown sparrows sing timeless tunes
in the ancient olive trees,
beneath them Jesus prays

the sun of grace is setting,
gather your faith,
it’s all you can take,
the harvest has come.

You know it’s late,
bloody saints are staggering
to the bus-stop
for the trickle home,
they say there's room for anyone
that will come.

brown sparrows sing timeless tunes
in the ancient olive trees,
beneath them Jesus prays